They Stumble That Run Fast
by iamtrollinginthedeep
Summary: Chloe is jealous. All she needs to realize it is a passionate kiss in a crowded theater in the wake of a fierce a cappella competition.
1. Chapter 1

**They Stumble That Run Fast**

Summary: Chloe is jealous. All she needs to realize it is a passionate kiss in a crowded theater in the wake of a fierce a cappella competition.

A/N: Prompt from Anonymous. Apparently my brain wants to turn this into a series. I'm not sure of how long it will be but I have a plot mapped out in my head. I guess we'll have to see!

**[Part 1]**

In spite of the blinding lights cast on-stage, the audience who got on their feet to clap and cheer the Finals winners enthusiastically and the wild arm flailing of her fellow Bellas, Chloe sees it. She does not just accidentally catch sight of it before shifting her gaze; she stares dead-on for an amount of time that brushes the line of inadequate. There, in the middle of the left row, Beca has found Jesse. She has run up to him just like in a movie's ending. A dreary, corny and oh-so fucking predictable ending where there are winners and losers. Having to witness their attached lips strikes Chloe just as a full-blown slap would.

She's the loser.

Something stirs in the pit of her stomach; a burning rage or a devastating sadness, or perhaps a bit of both. She tells herself she should not be feeling that way; after all, she has no _right_ to. But as a universal rule concerning matters of the heart, logic automatically gives way to feelings.

Feelings aren't something rational. Not only are they not tangible, they are fickle and overpowering. At times, a dash of them can fill you to the rim while an overload makes you feel alone, and so very lonely. Other times, it's the complete opposite. And you don't know where you are. And perhaps it's supposed to make you feel that way; throw you off and split the earth below your feet, snatch your heart and rip it to shreds.

Times moves in slow motion. Chloe hears the crowd roaring, she sees the confetti snowing over her and littering the floor in which they danced only moments ago. She feels Aubrey's arms enfolding her numb chest and instinctively brings a hand to her friend's forearm. All of this has had the time to happen, but Chloe's attention is still enraptured by the left row. By the girl who chose the Hollywood ending.

* * *

A celebratory party is roughly organized by both the Bellas and the Treblemakers. "Bumper bailed. Rules don't apply anymore," was Jesse's first call as the freshly appointed Trebles leader. Because old habits die hard, they opt for the campus pool—which in the entirety of Chloe's time at Barden has never actually been filled with water—to throw their impromptu party.

The music is loud. Too loud. In fact, it is blasting in Chloe's ears in a way that drives her mad. She isn't even in the mood to get wasted, taking nothing but a tiny sip from the red solo cup that Cynthia-Rose hands her good-heartedly.

"You ok, there?" the fellow Bella probes, looking genuinely concerned.

She hasn't even got the time to make up some terrible lie that Aubrey chimes in, driving Cynthia-Rose away with a sweep of the hand.

"I need to talk to her a minute if you don't mind."

Chloe does not protest when her lifelong best friend drops next to her on the edge of the pool, her legs dangling limply alongside the redhead's.

"Figured you'd be a bit more thrilled to have won a competition that has literally _been_ our lives for two years," she remarks sardonically.

Chloe smiles for a split second at the realization that indeed, this should be the best night of both their lives while it feels like everything but. "I never thought about what actually winning this thing meant," she shrugs. "You always overestimate your dreams, like they're going to solve everything." By that, she is unsure of what she means because she is actually freaking thrilled and proud to have won the a cappella finals, and really relieved to see that her efforts led her exactly where she wanted to be. Suddenly, her mood swings strike her as childish and egotistic, and she wishes nothing more than to backtrack.

"What's really eating you?"

She has already opened her mouth, but has stopped herself and the only thing that crawls out from her throat is a distraught croak. Jesse and Beca have started making out in the bleachers across from them, and this is the most loose that she's ever seen Beca. A bubbling loathing breeds within Chloe to the thought that Jesse has offered her one too many beers for exactly _this _purpose. The mere idea that he considers the girl _his_ disgusts her. She takes several gulps of her cup, and to Aubrey's surprise, she jumps down from the edge of the pool and joins the crowd on the makeshift dance floor below.

* * *

She was hoping for the music to drown her—and perhaps make her pass out right in the middle of the crowd—or for the tightly crammed bodies to suffocate her so that her mind would blur. She partly succeeds. From the pit, she cannot see Beca anymore. She doesn't see Aubrey or Cynthia-Rose or Fat Amy, or anyone that reminds her of the Bellas. She wants to dance the night away, have the time of her life and perhaps wake up in someone else's bed by morning. She doesn't really care.

By midnight, she's wasted. She's the sparkly good-as-new Chloe again. Fat Amy has challenged her to down shots with her, so now she's unabashedly belting out random song lyrics with the girls and hugging whoever steps in her proximity. And she's happy. Or so she tells herself.

That is until the familiar silhouette she'd been ogling at the beginning of the night approaches the little happiness bubble she's built, threatening to blow it up.

"Having fun?" Beca asks, her trademark smirk on the lips. It's the one she uses when she's not a hundred percent sure she's welcome. She's right to use it, Chloe thinks.

But she giggles like an idiot nonetheless, perhaps because the alcohol has flooded her veins and she is not really herself anymore.

"Definitely a night to remember," the brunette continues in the slightly sarcastic tone she masters so well—because Beca still won't let go of it—while wholly unaware of her friend's inner struggles.

"Yeah," Chloe answers casually. Too casually. "Where's Jesse?"

It's almost unnerving that Beca shrugs like it's her last concern in the world. Her eyes lazily scan the premises, clutching the cup she was holding. When she finds him playing beer pong with Donald, Unicycle and Benji, she points with her available hand. "There. Poor Benji hasn't got a clue. He's in for a hell of a hangover," she chuckles.

When her eyes slip back to Chloe, with her dilated pupils, her crimson cheeks, and her intoxicated bliss, she adds, "...And so are you. How many drinks have you had?"

To this, Chloe chortles in self-derision, but also largely in drunkenness, "Too many."

"How many fingers?"

Beca presents her hand with three fingers showing for Chloe to count which she snatch playfully. "Shut up!" They giggle and it's nice to feel like everything is normal for a change, however fleeting the sensation might be.

"But seriously, are you going to be ok?"

Right there, Chloe cannot be more grateful that she is pissing drunk. Because with the slight taste of bile tickling her throat, the ridiculously few hours of sleep she's had last night because of insomnia, and the fact that Beca still hasn't claimed her hand back from Chloe's grip, she knows that she would have broken down. And nothing, absolutely nothing in this fucking world, could've made her stop.

When Aubrey cautiously closes the door to their dorm, it is around 3:00 am. Carrying her shoes in her hands, she attempts to tiptoe her way to her bed and given the amount of alcohol her liver is trying to dilute, even putting a foot in front of the other is no easy feat. Chloe stirs from her inebriated slumber just long enough to hear her friend's soft weepings as she pulls the covers above her head.


	2. Chapter 2

**[Part 2]**

- _Following the Finals, Jesse and Beca's infamous kiss and Chloe's jealousy._

The morning breaks through their blinds way too quickly. Thank god it's Saturday. Chloe flutters her eyes open and gives herself a minute, wondering if she'll have to fight a wave of nausea. But apart from the slight confusion and the throbbing headache, she's relatively fine. Oh well.

Aubrey's bed is made, she notices. The steady and familiar sound of keyboard typing confirms that her friend is already up and about. When she hears the ruffling of her friend's sheets however, the blonde stops and spins on her chair.

"How's the head?"

"It's been better," Chloe grimaces, ineffectually massaging her skull.

There is an awkward silence between the two. Awkward because they both have a question burning their lips, but they dread actually stepping on each other's boundaries. Before, Chloe wasn't the type to care about boundaries, personal space and all that—yes she had barged in on a stranger showering, but she had done worse. Limitless didn't necessarily go with reckless or careless. Sometimes, it went with freedom. But now, she was second-guessing everything; like every action bore grave consequences. And she owed that brand new mindset to her very first acknowledged failure. The first time her heart hurt to the thought that she had _lost_ someone.

She speaks first because she knows Aubrey won't open up until prompted. "Who is it?" she begins, sitting up in her bed and folding her arms around her legs. The blonde appears confused at first, but it's only for good measure because the question is crystal clear. Chloe adds nonetheless, "That made you cry so."

"I was not crying."

Ignoring Aubrey, she goes on, "It was not the liquor because you're not a weepy drunk, and it was definitely not your hard-earned champion title so who was it?"

"I fell for someone. But it's not happening," she admits flatly.

"Why?"

"Because the place's taken." Before Chloe has a chance to investigate further, she is cut off. "You were kind of a mess last night. A happy mess, but still..."

Chloe doesn't deny. Instead, she stares at her quilt gloomily. Aubrey sighs and moves from her chair to Chloe's bed, sitting at the edge. Her stare is particularly kind for an Aubrey stare and Chloe allows herself to be comforted by it for a split second.

"She went back to her own dorm if that is what's eating you up. She didn't bring him in."

"What—"

"I know."

Chloe's mouth opens and closes a few times, no intelligible sounds escaping it. She gives up.

"Come on Chloe, I'm your best friend. Did you think I wouldn't notice how your eyes keep drifting her way? How every time her name is mentioned, you light up a thousand watts? How fucking shattered you were last night?"

Chloe doesn't say a thing because there is absolutely nothing to say. However, she feels bad realizing that she has no idea who Aubrey was crying over. Has she been so self-absorbed? _Talk about a lousy friend._

As if Aubrey reads her mind, she reaches for her friend. "Hey, I love you Chlo. You know that right?"

Her hand is lukewarm against Chloe's; she's been out of bed for a while. They're interrupted when the phone buzzes softly on the bedside table. They both lean in to read off the sender's ID. It's a text from Beca.

Aubrey ruffles her friend's red mane before returning to her computer and Chloe clutches her phone far too tight and close to her face, running eager eyes over the little bundle of words.

_How's the hangover treating you?_

Chloe bites her lip as she types her answer. _Nothing a couple of tabs can't fix._

_You have a dealer providing you?_

_I was actually speaking theoretically :P_

She throws in that smiley out of habit because she always figured that messages were clearer when accompanied with the emotion conveyed. Plus, showing any sign of sulking is to be avoided at all cost, so she figures a smug-ass smiley is about right. She hits send.

Glad to have most likely fooled Beca, she drops her phone to the ground near the bed, and her eyes lazily wander to Aubrey. "What are you doing?" she shoots.

Curiously, she notices how quick she changes the page she was on to answer a dull, "Research. In fact, I need to go to the library." She jolts up from her seat and fumbles in her closet to find her purse. Once she is all set, she stands near the door, no doubt wanting to find some inspirational words. Clearly nothing stands out so she offers a tense smile instead.

"I'll be done by noon. Lunch together?"

Chloe nods as the blonde swiftly disappears. She checks the time on her phone, taking the opportunity to be let down by Beca's lack of reply. _Fucking fantastic._ She cannot allow herself to wallow in her misery and expect to thrive in this state of pessimism. Depression brings you down, which is why Chloe has always kicked it to the curve and traded it for a smile. Finally taking it upon herself to get dressed, she rummages through her clothes to find a vibrant blue outfit. A short-sleeved top with delicate flowers imprinted on its front. Nice clothes help, Chloe thinks. Sometimes, the silliest things do.

* * *

She doesn't even know what she finds in the girl. She shouldn't even _like_ people like her; alternative girls who are too much of an introvert to speak their mind and have learnt to hide themselves behind witty jokes and condescending snide remarks. Girls who listen to suicidal music and think too highly of themselves to even consider meddling with mere mortals.

So why. Why was the universe being a paradoxical bitch. It could not have been karma because all her life, Chloe had been the perfect child, the perfect friend, the perfect lover, the perfect everything. Working her ass off to get top grades, being a social butterfly, a dedicated friend, and an eternal optimistic... So if it was not random, or karma, what was she missing?

A knock on the door startles her because Aubrey never leaves without her keys. Hastily sliding her top over her head, she steals a glance at the mirror to make sure it's not inside-out or something and she opens the door.

Before her stands her perfect disaster. Beca has not slept much according to the dark circles under her eyes—which are not mascara—but the dopey grin on her face shows how little she cares. She radiates beauty by the way she stares. Like Chloe is the one thing she's been thinking about all morning. Clad in a black jacket and pink shirt to contrast, with her enormous headphones around her neck—the appendage that never leaves her—she really rocks this alternative look.

"Can I hook you up with anything?" Beca uses a deep gravely voice, producing a bottle of aspirin from the inside pocket of her jacket. Chloe cannot stifle her giggles.

"What are you doing here?"

"Came to deliver these of course! And to check up on you after last night's debacle. Well nothing bad actually happened but I just really wanted to use the word debacle in a sentence."

And that is the thing with Beca Mitchell. As much as she presents herself as a stone-hard and careless alt. chick, she actually turns out to be an adorable goofball once she feels safe enough to show it. To the thought that Beca apparently feels safe in her company, Chloe chest tightens a little.

She ceremoniously waves for her to proceed through the door.

"Where did you find these?" She untwists the cap and swiftly pops two pills in her mouth, washing it down with the remainder of water from the bottle laying by her bed.

"I actually had two bottles, not for hangovers though. Don't worry I'm not an alcoholic! I used to have pretty bad headaches, probably because I blasted music in my ears day and night." She scratches her ear, right above her string of black earrings. "Anyway, Jesse and Benji are sharing the other one. You should see the state of him, poor kid!"

First time that Beca mentions Jesse's name since yesterday and she finds it preposterous that a simple name gets her wound-up.

"Pretty crazy, hun?" Beca points to the Finals trophy resting gloriously on Aubrey's work desk. The Bellas captain intended on having it displayed in a glass case at school for everyone to see how Barden's a cappella champions won this year's competition; how _she_ overcame last year's horrendous chunks-flying fiasco and exerted her sweet revenge on anyone who laughed at her Youtube video or pointed at her down the hall. Funny how Chloe hasn't even examined it yet.

"How I wish I could have one of those on my nightstand."

"It's all thanks to you, Beca. If someone deserves to have it, it's you," Chloe reaches out and pushes the large golden trophy in Beca's hands.

"Oh wow, no I was not actually being serious here!" the girl protests, putting her hands in front of her as if to shield herself from the title that came with the prize. _Aca-loser?_ "Don't get me wrong Chloe, I still think that a cappella competitions are pretty lame."

The redhead's face drops against her will; she convinces herself that it should not hurt her; it's nothing _personal_. Except it sort of is. Chloe's life has literally been gravitating around these competitions. A tiger does not change its stripes, she figures.

Beca notices how her friend's face falls. "Uh, I meant the hype around the competitions is lame. I mean, take Bumper, or Aubrey. But there's a reason why I stayed," she explains in a hurry, tripping over her words. "_You_ were not."

Chloe suppresses the goofy grin that threatens to take over her face, but it is to no avail. Instead, she uses it to bounce back with a question. "How come you're all fine and dandy anyway?! I saw you—" _Tonguing Jesse._ "—carrying a cup all night!"

"Exactly," she nods, amused by her friend's indignation. "_One_ cup. I saw you down at least four shots with Fat Amy!" The girl steps back from Chloe, staring down at her own body. "I'm afraid I can't afford such debauchery. I'm a lightweight, have you not noticed?"

Chloe had to admit, the girl was indeed short, perhaps the shortest woman of her age. The massive headset concealing her neck did not help. But it was cute, really.

"Do you never take them off?!" she points at them, flopping down on her bed.

"As if! I've been mixing like crazy all night, but it was worth it! Finals inspired me."

_Finals or Jesse? _She promptly discards images of the Treblemaker's inebriated boyish lips and focuses on Beca's first and true love.

"Mixing, hun? Anything good?"

Beca joins Chloe on the bed, cautious not to intrude on the girl's space by keeping an acceptable platonic-relationship space—if such a thing exists. The brunette smiles inwardly as if she were abashed, making Chloe gulp.

"How about," Beca fumbles in her shoulder bag, taking out her mp3 player, "you tell me?"

In a true Chloe fashion, the girl hardly contains her excitement. She enjoys Beca's company of course, but what truly thrills her is the sheer trust she seems to put in their relationship. A brand new mix. And Chloe is the _first _to hear, she would stake her life on it.

"But hang on, where's Aubrey?" Beca inquires, darting the closed door of the dorm's bathroom—a perk of being a senior—as Chloe sets the headphones on her head.

The redhead is beaming, a glint of something in the eye—it might be slyness given that she has got Beca sprawled on her bed, self-satisfaction that Jesse has not heard the apprentice DJ's latest tracks yet, or perhaps it's pure bliss—when she answers, "Out."


	3. Chapter 3

**[Part 3]**

Chloe is late to her lunch with Aubrey. When she finally arrives to their favourite diner with her cheeks tainted pink and the tip of her hair floating messily about, Aubrey raises an eyebrow.

"Sorry!" She sits down quickly, as if it's going to change anything now.

"You're never late," her friend states matter-of-factly as the implicit question _What the hell were you doing_ hangs in the air.

"Beca swung by."

"Did she?"

Chloe takes a sip of water under her friend's inquisitive gaze.

"She dropped off a couple of tabs for my headache. It was—it was nothing." Chloe squirms in her seat like a toddler. She wants to talk to Aubrey; she wants to tell her things, to share with her the intermingled feelings compressing her heart at once. But amongst a golden trophy, a bottle of aspirin, many psychedelic audio tracks and stupidly big headphones, her mind gasps for air.

Aubrey joins her hands under her chin, interrupting her jumbled thoughts. "Look, you know what I think of her."

"I know you used to _hate_ her," Chloe counters defensively, tapping a couple of frustrated fingers on the glass of water she palms.

"Hate is not the most fitting word."

"You prefer what, loathe, despise, abhor?" she challenges. Truly, she regrets having this petty dispute with her friend, but given the rough history between these two and the war they waged against each other, she needs to get out of her system the fact that she'd been unwillingly caught in the crossfire.

"Strongly disapproved of her arrogance and annoying I-hate-everyone vibe," corrects Aubrey.

"You called her earrings ear monstrosities!"

Aubrey sighs, sliding her hands from her chin to the redhead's fingers to stop her from fidgeting with her glass. "We hardly got together to argue over my lukewarm liking of Beca, Chloe… I'm worried for you."

"Worried," she repeats blankly. "Worried why? I'm not the one who was bawling in my bed last night."

_Touché. _Aubrey retracts her hands and crosses her arms over the table. "Look, I'm trying to be a _friend_ here. You know, the kind you don't bitch out?"

This remark softens Chloe's features into an apologetic pout. "I—I didn't mean to snap, sorry. I'm worried for you too."

The former Bellas captain's nostrils flare; this is all Chloe needs to fathom exactly her friend's distress. She's always kept her demons inside. Granted, chunks were flying sometimes due to an overwhelming amount of pressure—from her father of course, but from herself mostly—but most of these concerns remained skin-deep. Truth is, Aubrey is terrified of failure. To the point that it consumes her spirit, taking over her soul in the most vicarious and toxic ways. She sets herself ideals that are barely in her reach, and she tumbles to the ground whenever she fails to meet them. Chloe doesn't know how Aubrey does it; in her place, she would've checked out long ago.

"I got you a club sandwich if that's ok," she informs as a waiter balances two plates in his hands, setting them on their table.

That's what they used to order each time they came here back in freshman year. The good old days, Chloe recalls. Not _all the time_, but often enough to reminisce fondly about these memories. She's been by Aubrey's side through thick and thin; befriending her when no one would, putting up with her chronic edginess, following her in her delusions of grandeur when she decided to join the school choir. She's never let go before and she'll be damned to let go now.

"What's happening to you?" she prods.

Aubrey puts her fork down—because of course she eats a sandwich with a fork and knife—and draws her bottom lip into her mouth. "Is it possible for something to be complicated and so ridiculously simple all together?"

_That's an easy answer._ "Love."

It makes her friend chuckle in this defeated, heartbreaking way. "That's what I thought."

"Aubrey, stop with the cryptic bullshit!" Chloe pleads.

"You want _her_, I want _him_," declares, popping a French fry in her mouth.

"You—"

As she swallows, all the seriousness and affliction of the world comes crashing down on her. "We're on the same boat Chloe. We want the same thing..."

In an instant, Aubrey's caring side comes back to the surface as she covers her friend's hand with hers and squeezes tenderly as Chloe bites back some bitter tears. She's the strong one, she repeats to herself; she was always _supposed_ to be the strong one.

The blonde's smile is a miserable attempt at an optimistic façade, but she's not fooling anyone so she drops it. Aubrey is right, Chloe ponders as she admits that they both long to get hold of the couple of stars that are out of reach; the golden boy and the mysterious girl. Indeed, they're on the same boat.

And they're both adrift.

* * *

The next day, Chloe's pink cellphone flashes in the middle of her English lecture, notifying she received a text message.

_Movie tonight at 8 with the group Xx _

It comes from Fat Amy, who predictably stole her title of social butterfly. She figures the "group" includes Aubrey, Cynthia-Rose, Stacie, Lilly, Beca, her beau and a few other Treblemakers, seeing that the strong woman has bonded with them over their latest pool party. Weighing in the pros and cons of her absence, Chloe frets over the odds of a miracle requiring a last minute withdrawal. Would they really miss her? They're just going to silently hang out in a dark room after all! Truth be told, her hesitation to show up comes from the fact that she fuck all wants front-row tickets for a bestial tongue-wrestle featuring Beca and Jesse.

"Anyone care to sum up the lesson learnt from Act II, Scene III?" The teacher, Mr. Irving, has stopped his on-going gibberish for a minute, scanning the classroom for some brave soul. _Fat chance._

"Romeo and Juliet should just get hitched already! Their chemistry could be seen from space. He's a boy, she's a girl; they want to make babies. Why delay the inevitable?" is the reply of some wise-ass student in the front row.

_Not exactly._ Chloe has devoured the play in one afternoon, reading every line with brand new eyes. This story resonates with her; she is almost positive that for once in her literature class, she genuinely _gets _it. Romeo and Juliet might have become the epitome of true love according to popular culture, but Chloe calls bullshit. Had the doomed couple taken their time and planned their shit, they would not have needed draconian measures to be together. This was the play's gist. Timing, planning, and a whole lot of patience. And maybe they would've died in the end anyway; star-crossed to infinity and beyond. But there would remain the _what if_, this vital question from which stems pure, naked, fragile hope. If at first, it's a haze on the horizon, it changes as your faith grows; the haze becomes a shadow, the shadow a stain. It eventually becomes a concrete possibility and maybe, just maybe—

"Not at all!" Mr. Irving scowls, flailing his arms in the air, "Friar Laurence's intervention is crucial, for it sums up the entire play! _They stumble that run fast. _You should never hurry the heart, is what he is saying! Romeo and Juliet ran to their impending doom and paid the price. They wanted to be fast, passionate and epic, but it's ultimately their downfall that turned into a legend." The old man sighs, closing his book with vehemence as if to prove a point. "Shakespeare might have died a few centuries ago, but the old man knew what he was talking about! Perhaps you kids could learn something from that, hm?"

Chloe exits the class with the lecture replaying in her head. Who ever thought that William Shakespeare would comfort her heavy heart someday? But his words strike her, his wisdom astounds her; she wants to believe he is right. She _needs _to. Indeed, never would she have guessed that one day, she would wish so badly the demise of Romeo and Juliet.

* * *

It is very rare—exceptional even—to know in advance the exact "when" and "why" you embark on a journey. Sometimes, it is an adventure, a voyage of self-discovery. Sometimes, it is love, perhaps the greatest tale ever told. Other times, it is a tragedy, and it changes you forever. No man can predict his future, let alone control its course. The trick is to go with the flow, follow the current, and most of all, no matter what, keep _breathing_.

She comes back to the dorms a little before 5 o'clock. Aubrey's already in, frantically tossing her whole wardrobe over her shoulder and on her bed. The quilt is barely visible under the pile of clothes.

"What are you doing?!"

"Trying to find an outfit that won't cry _I'm a vintage stuck-up bitch_! Did you get the text?"

"I—I did..."

Aubrey momentarily stops flinging her stuff around to turn towards Chloe, hands on her hips and a glint of anxiety in her eyes. "This is totally ridiculous, isn't it?"

"No!" Chloe reassures too promptly. "No, no it's not uh, well yes, it is a little bit... unreasonable."

She briskly slouches her shoulders, letting the two tops she held drop from her hands, and then gives a kick at the sorry blouses pooling at her feet. "Screw this, what the hell was I thinking!"

Chloe never really knows how to respond to Aubrey when she is panicking. It was easier before, when taming her friend's worries was within Chloe's power. When they were at practice, she usually agreed with whatever she was saying, no matter how harsh or irrational it was. When she was having a bad day, she led them to the nearest café when more often than not, they would silently watch the passers-by scuttle on her sidewalks. But when Aubrey's fears and insecurities crawl back to the surface, ready to wholly engulf her, that's when talking and rationalizing becomes futile.

So instead, she bows down to collect the items of clothing for Aubrey and sets them back on their hangers. By then, Aubrey has calmed down, sinking to the floor and crawling beside her bed.

"We could bail, make up an excuse," Chloe offers in all sincerity. At this point, she doesn't even know if she wants to be there herself.

"No no, I'm fine," Aubrey lies. But Chloe doesn't call her out on it. She understands too much the necessity of a good old fake "I'm fine" from time to time, especially when things are particularly fucked.

How ironic that a few months ago, Aubrey's decree that Bellas were not to date Treblemakers was set in stone, and yet here she was, head over heels for Jesse Swanson, the freshman team leader.

"So is it safe to assume that the rule stipulating that Treblemakers are off-limits is being revoked?"

Aubrey blindly grabs a stray skirt on her bed and playfully tosses it at her friend before leaning her back on the side of her bed, legs stretched out in front of her.

But sarcasm aside, Chloe can understand how they could work. While Aubrey is a control-freak, a walking time-bomb, Jesse is the norm, the expected; he is the stability that would keep her world in orbit.

Aubrey whimpers, "I'm too uptight for him. I mean, look at me; I'm nothing like Beca."

With her pink dress and her carefully-groomed golden locks, her sense of duty and purpose, her consuming need to micromanage, no she is nothing like Beca. _But is that actually such a bad thing?_

"What happened to the old Aubrey..." the blonde murmurs as she buries her face in her hands.

Chloe drops to the floor next to her best friend, rubbing a comforting hand on her back and pressing her head against Aubrey's. "Well," she sighs, "I think that maybe she's finally starting to cut you some slack. And maybe it's for the best."

* * *

Tonight will be fun, she figures. Through text message, the group has arranged to meet in front of the movie theater's doors at 7:30 sharp. Upon arriving, Aubey and Chloe realize that they are last.

"And last but not least!" calls Fat Amy, half-groaning, half-joking.

The Bellas are all present, including some of the Trebles. Somehow, the truce made them a lot friendlier, thanks to the disappearance of Bumper's acid reproaches and annoying sermons. Being friends with a Treble? She could swing with that. As long as it wasn't _the _Treble. Because of course, how could she not notice Jesse glued to Beca, wrapping a protective arm around her waist with no intention to let go even as Beca walks towards Aubrey and her. _Are you afraid she's going to fucking fly off or what?_

"Hey, what took you so long? We still haven't agreed on a movie!" she announces.

"Oh we don't mind! Whatever you guys want," Chloe insists with a lively nod. She's actually not faking being happy. She hasn't seen Beca since yesterday and already, that's pushing her limits. Her eyes hastily sweep up and down the small girl's frame when she notices something different about her and realizes she dressed up for the occasion. Kind of. Wearing a classy light blue top that matches her eyes and a jet black skirt that exposes far too much skin for Chloe not to feel her cheeks flush, she almost looks like a new (and improved?) Beca. "Almost" because thick layers of mascara still circle her eyes, giving her the typical deep and intense gaze. A concession that she was not ready to make yet, even for Jesse.

"We narrowed it down to three choices," Jesse cuts in. "Drama, horror or comedy. I personally love comedy."

"You love comedy!" Beca agrees.

"I really do love comedy! Ever wondered why _The Breakfast Club_ is my all-time favourite? I converted Beca too. She told me she bawled at the end!"

"I didn't _bawl,_" Beca objects rather emphatically.

"Hey, you told me you teared up!" he points at her jokingly. "Genuine, wet, warm _tears_ rolling down your face!"

"Whatever," she rolls her eyes in defeat.

Chloe wonders if she is the only one to have been enraptured by their dynamic banter. Seeing that all the others are chatting in small groups in the exception of Aubrey who sulks in retreat, she snaps out of her trance just in time for Jesse to proclaim his decision.

"Hey how about we just go with comedy? Comedy is good!"

_Sure thing. Romantic comedies are so exciting. What are the odds of a young white heterosexual male meeting a young white heterosexual female and initiating a heteronormative relationship in which they proceed to have sex before the credits roll? Not boringly predictable at all... _

The gang arrives in the dark showroom, immediately claiming the highest row of seats. The Treblemakers Donald and what's-his-name with the afro spread out their legs on the seats below them, laughing obnoxiously. Somehow, Chloe is not surprised to see Cynthia-Rose sit next to Stacie. Which brings her to her very own dilemma. She trades glances with Aubrey, wordlessly asking her where to sit and when the woman shrugs, she figures that she is on her own. After some struggle, everybody finally settles down, Chloe on the end of the row, with Beca on her right. Her heart is already racing.

A few minutes into the movie, Chloe steals a glance in Beca's direction because she can't fucking help it.

The girl keeps wriggling in her seat with Jesse's arm sprawled across her shoulders. Chloe can't help but notice the faint crease that settles between her eyebrows, and feel the ardent satisfaction that invades her.

It was cute to think that she would actually be able to pay attention to the movie at all. Not in a hundred years. Not with Beca so close. With the warmth that radiates from her body, the faint scent of her hair, and the soft giggles that shake her shoulders from time to time. _Fuck this, I'll just rent the damn movie._

An hour and a half later, the credits start rolling on the black screen as the lights grow brighter. They didn't kiss until now, with the ending song filling the room and bidding its joyful adieu. Chloe seeks Aubrey further in the row, but the girl is already making her way out.

"Told you endings are the best part," Chloe hears him utter in her ear strung with black rings.

But happy endings only happen on-screen, don't they? In the real world, an ending simply becomes a new beginning. In fact, life is but a succession of middles, some longer than others. But Jesse is not the Andrew Clark to Beca's Allison Reynolds. The popular jock falling for the antisocial outcast. Maybe he's hoping to fix her or something. It kills Chloe that she appears to be the only one to see that Beca doesn't _need_ fixing.

The group starts walking out of the cinema, laughing and commenting along the way. Chloe remembers that Beca once told her Jesse wants to score movie soundtracks for a living while Beca wants to spin tracks. They're a perfect match; the perfect _fucking_ match. But nevertheless, in this moment—maybe it's the lights, the music, or the fact that she never got the full name of the main character being too distracted by Beca's hand brushing against hers on the armrest—an epiphany hits Chloe, forcing her to actually stop in her tracks and stare at the couple holding hands. She realizes that Jesse lives a fantasy through Beca; he's chasing his happily ever after. His one perfect movie ending. But even then, after the perfect couple has overcome their demons, conquered every trial, endured all the pain and proven to be soulmates.

_What happens after the credits roll? _


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Part 4 of the fic! The plot thickens. I think there will be 3-4 more parts before the story comes to a close. Thank you all for reading! Also, feedback is always welcome :)**

**[Part 4]**

- _Everything is fine. Everything is perfect. Until it's not._

The end of the semester begins to poke its head in the horizon. Before they know it, Aubrey and Chloe will have graduated and perhaps left the state to chase their dreams—maybe pursue a career in acting, become a famous writer, or get a steady job behind an office desk. No matter where they land, they will need to put behind them the singing competitions, the matters of the heart—along with the drama that automatically ensues—and all the doubts surrounding whether or not they are ready to face the future. In all honesty, Chloe delays the moment where she's going to have to admit that _this_ is all coming to an end. Aubrey seldom speaks of it, but there is no doubt about it; she is scared out of her fucking mind too.

One morning, Aubrey receives an e-mail from the school dean. She has been chosen as this year's Valedictorian for her outstanding grades and leadership in leading the Barden Bellas to victory at the state Finals, and is to deliver a speech at the graduation ceremony. The senior would have normally been jumping up and down, her breakfast perhaps threatening to crawl back to the surface. But no, there she is on her computer chair, seeming rather unruffled by the news. Yet, she spends the following days writing a dozen different versions of her speech, ranging from ceremonial to emotional, inspirational, comical or even plain depressing. Aubrey asks Chloe to read them all and every time, she nods her head and shoots a confident, "Keep this one, it's really good!" And each time, Aubrey balls the paper in her fist and writes a new one.

Chloe enters the dorm one afternoon to find her friend bent over her computer, earplugs in. She gets close enough to recognize _The Breakfast Club_. She doesn't say a thing. Mainly because she is no better. In the course of an evening, she has downloaded every possible remix of David Guetta and compiled them in an iTunes playlist that has probably reached above a hundred plays. She doesn't think her newfound interest will actually change anything because Jesse was not a particular DJ fanatic himself a few months ago. But listening to these quirky and hectic tracks makes her feel somehow closer to Beca. And that's good enough for her.

They're at the cafeteria, Chloe watching patiently as Aubrey scribbles down a few notes on yet another version of the speech, when Beca drops next to her. Unaccompanied. _Where is your arm ornament? _The words are itching to creep out of Chloe's throat.

"Hey! What's up?" Beca beams, stealing a glance at Aubrey's written assignment.

"Her Valedictorian speech. She's been working so hard to perfect it," Chloe explains.

"Valedictorian speech," Beca echoes pensively. "That's when this year's class smarty-pants babbles on about how nice college was and makes up some bullshit about the future isn't it?"

Before Chloe has a chance to do some damage control on Beca's harsh sarcasm in order to avoid Aubrey's wrath, the blonde groans loudly. "Somebody shoot me, I'm so not ready for this!"

"It's easy," Beca cuts in. "You just take what everybody expects to hear, and switch it up entirely."

Aubrey frowns. "That's about the stupidest idea I've heard."

Without missing a beat, Beca elaborates on her thought. "Look, before you even open your mouth, these kids will be bored to tears! No need to deliver the finishing blow... Surprise them! Inspire them in a unique way, have them believe that everything will be ok in the end because god knows every soul in there will be terrified of the future! This might be your last time to shine, Aubrey. Show them what you've really got!"

"Wow," Chloe breathes. "You're good. You could do this! She could do it! Don't you think Beca has the face of someone who'd do a valedictory?"

"Maybe in another universe," Aubrey scoffs without bothering to look up from her sheet.

Right on cue, Jesse appears at the end of the hall, scanning the cafeteria with rapacious eyes. As soon as he zeroes in on Beca, he literally sprints to their table, nearly knocking some poor girl over.

_Curb your enthusiasm, Usain Bolt. _

"Hey Beca, I was looking for you!" he pants, barely paying attention to the two seniors.

Chloe observes Aubrey from the corner of her eye. She has leaped right back into her speech, fussily scribbling down a bunch of words. They are probably all a chaotic spurt that doesn't make sense, Chloe muses. Meanwhile, her friend's cheeks take a rosy tint.

"Well, you found me! What's up?"

He grins sheepishly before planting a soft kiss on his girlfriend's lips. "Ready for lunch?"

Slightly uncomfortable, Beca subtly motions to the table occupied by the two other girls, stirring him out of his lovestruck daze. "Oh hey Chloe! Aubrey."

They mumble some kind of mechanical greeting, intensifying the awkwardness of the moment. He stammers, "So uh, what are you guys up to?"

"Aubrey's been chosen to speak on behalf of the senior class."

"Valedictorian, huh? Nice! Why am I not surprised," he grins. From the tone of his voice, the comment is intended as flattering rather than condescending. God knows Jesse has many flaws, but Chloe can't help but appreciate the fact that he isn't a complete jerk. He adds in all sincerity, "Well, they couldn't have chosen better. I'm sure you'll knock 'em dead!"

And by some extreme largesse, Chloe finds it in herself to like the boy _just_ a tiny little bit because he's made Aubrey smile.

* * *

Her arms over-encumbered with books, Chloe bumps into Beca after third period as she turns a corner. The paperback volumes tumble to the floor in a shower of thuds.

"Light bedtime readings?" Beca jibes.

She squats awkwardly in order to pick up the books when her hand is drawn to the Shakespeare play. Getting back on her feet, Beca is still examining its cover.

"_Romeo and Juliet_? How romantic!" By the way she rolls her eyes, she clearly means otherwise. "It's funny how Romeo is made out to be this glorified hero while he was kind of a jerk. You know that before meeting Juliet, he was crushing hard on Rosaline, and he dumped her in a heartbeat?"

Chloe grins sheepishly and shrugs. "Love at first sight, right?"

"Bullshit. Don't tell me you're buying into this Hollywood-type crap? Good things take time."

There. The perfect paradox. Beca admitting that she feels contempt for the very type of lifestyle she chose for herself, the exact same Hollywood-type crap that had changed her life a few days ago. But Chloe bites her lip and grips her books a little tighter on her chest because she swears to have caught a glimpse of the old Beca; the one she is falling for a little more every day.

To prevent herself from doing something rash and completely reckless, she blurts out the first thing that comes to mind.

"Anyway, while you're here... I wanted to thank you on behalf of Aubrey. She has changed her approach to the valedictory a little. After you made your suggestion."

"Wow, since when does Aubrey actually listen to advice?" Beca quips, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Aubrey cares. She'd rather die than admit it, but..."

"Stop, I'm getting misty eyed."

"Don't be an ass!" Chloe chuckles, playfully nudging Beca's arm with her elbow.

An awkward silence starts to fill the air. Beca has not taken a step back; she's got this tongue-tied look about her. _Is she holding back?_ All Chloe knows is that she is not ready to let her go yet.

She takes a chance. "Hey so Aubrey's first draft being done, do you... want to give it a first listen?"

Judging from Beca's stunned expression, she was clearly expecting something else. "I, uh, really?! Are you serious?"

"Well your input is extremely appreciated! It wouldn't be the first time either," Chloe stammers, knowing that her flushed face will soon reach her hair's color. "I'm just making a suggestion here, you won't need to play the critique or anything, I'm just—"

"Chloe?" Beca interrupts softly, causing Chloe to catch her breath and swallow her words.

"Y-yeah?"

The brunette displays an amused grin; whether she is on to something that Chloe ignores or she finds the older girl's embarrassment quite comical. She finally says, "If you wanna hang out, you can just say so."

* * *

Turning a key in a lock has never been this nerve-wracking. Chloe needs to try a few times, her shaky hands being extremely uncooperative. She mutters a few curses under her breath before finally pushing their dorm door open, frantically surveying the room for any sign of her roommate's presence. She is out.

"Looks like the recital will have to wait," Beca observes.

"Oh shit, I think I remember Aubrey mentioning she was at the library tonight cramming for an exam or something... Wait, I'll just text her."

"No, don't bother her! I don't really care that much anyway."

"Oh," Chloe blankly lets out. "So what do you wanna do?"

Beca goes to sit on the edge of Chloe's bed—the fact that she knows which bed is hers fucking kills her—and sighs contentedly at her friend. "I don't mind."

The redhead's whole body is screaming at its owner to go join her on the bed, but she has already been there. Last time they were so close, Chloe had almost made a hasty but fatal mistake. She recalls how Beca was so glad but anxious to show her new mix, how she kept fidgeting with her many black plastic bracelets. Had Chloe listened to her instinct, she would have claimed something that was not rightfully hers; a hand, an arm, even a cheek. It took every fibre in her body to stay put and take what she could; a smile, a glint in the eye, a chuckle. A bashful thank you when Chloe praised her music.

Yet here they are again. So close, but so far. Chloe sits in Aubrey's computer chair instead, wheeling herself near her bed.

"Jesse wants to go on vacation this summer," Beca announces out of the blue.

_Fucking Jesse. Even when you're not here, you ruin things..._

"Oh really? Where?"

She chortles. "Mexico? Europe? ... Florida?! That's the thing, he has no idea! That's Jesse for you. He sticks his marshmallow over the logs before the bonfire is even aflame."

"That's a terrible metaphor!" Chloe teasingly pulls out her tongue.

"Oh I know! Give me a break, missy!" She reaches for Chloe's pillow and aims at her friend's head. _Bull's eye. _

The offence cannot stand without retaliation. Chloe gets up from her chair and pounces on Beca, grabbing her by the hips and starting to tickle her. And god is she ticklish. Shrieking as she flaunts her arms in every direction, Beca is laughing like she rarely does; freely and joyfully.

"Mercy! Mercy!" she gasps for air. "My—my hand! I swear it, it s-s-slipped! Ahh!"

Chloe has pushed Beca on her back, firmly straddling her waist and forcing her into submission. Her hair is floating around her head like a dark chestnut-colored halo. Still panting and red in the face, Chloe finds her simply breathtaking. Beca holds her hands out in surrender, a goofy grin plastering her face. It's the redhead's cue to roll away, pleading for the throbbing in her chest to subside.

"That was not fair-play!" Beca whines, propping herself in a semi-sitting position with her elbows.

_All's fair in love and war._

Chloe speaks suddenly, urgently even. "Do you wanna go?"

"Where?"

"With Jesse I mean. Do you wanna go on holiday with him?"

Beca looks slightly thrown off by her friend's sudden change of tone and what has prompted the topic.

"I don't know," she finally admits, looking down.

"What do you see in him?" Chloe asks in the most innocent and interested voice she can conjure up. She flips on the bed to lie on her right flank, one hand supporting her head up while staring deeply at the brunette.

Beca chuckles and shoots Chloe an are-we-really-having-a-girl-talklook. "He's nice? Funny, good-looking... You know, that sort of thing."

Judging by Chloe's silence, the girl is still not satiated.

Beca's lips turn into a crooked smile that fakes being annoyed at the girl for forcing her into this conversation, which is perhaps the most adorable thing Chloe has ever witnessed. "He actually cares about my thoughts and feelings. He takes the time to show me stuff, like movies and video games. And," Beca smirks, finally crossing her legs and sitting straight, "he kind of was the first person to... want me like that, so."

_Wrong._

"Sometimes," she continues, "you just figure _why not_, you know?"

_Wrong, wrong, wrong. So very wrong. _Since when being the first person to manifest an interest in someone means having rights over them? Chloe holds back from calling bullshit, balling the hand supporting her head into a fist.

A relatively comfortable silence settles in. Beca pushes a strand of hair behind her ear and mechanically rolls up her shirt sleeves, staring down at her bare arms. A pattern had appeared, discreet, a bit washed up, and easy to mistake with some irrelevant marker lines.

"Is that a tattoo?! Yeah, I think I noticed it before! In the shower," she recalls, a blush starting to creep on her cheeks.

"What?" Beca looks at the design as if she's never noticed it before and says casually, "Oh yeah, it's a kind of grasshopper thingy."

"Why a grasshopper?"

"I liked the design?"

"That's it? Really?" Chloe crinkles her nose, staring at her in disbelief and somehow, that makes Beca reconsider her answer.

"Uh, no I guess not. I got it after my parents' divorce. At the time, I wanted to remind myself that everyone needs to bounce back... Or something like that. It's kind of lame, really," she shrugs while running a thumb over her inked skin.

"Not at all! I have a bug tattoo as well!" Chloe shows her right wrist enthusiastically, giggling when contemplating the odds of them both having a bug tattoo. It was strange, but kind of heart-warming at the same time. Chloe could not pinpoint why exactly. "Mine's a ladybug! I got it in Freshman year. I'd just met Aubrey and we were pacing the rows of the activities fair together. When we got to the Bellas kiosk, a ladybug landed on my wrist. Right there." Chloe holds out her wrist for Beca to examine more closely, proud to have piqued the girl's curiosity and found something new for them to connect with.

The brunette gently grabs Chloe's wrist. The design is so small and subtle it looks like a little ruby. With the tip of a finger, she traces small circles over the pattern, on the other girl's bare skin. Instantly, the redhead feels herself burning up, and it's definitely not the dorm's defective heating system.

After a few moments, Beca should retract her hand. She really should or else she'd infringe on the unspoken platonic codes, sticking a foot out of the very thin line delimiting the realms of friendship and romance. Beca _should_ retract her hand; but she doesn't.

Instead, her eyes are alert but still; her mouth hangs half-open.

Chloe is shaking. She has pictured this moment a thousand times but now that it is actually upon her, her mind is a total blur. A warm, cosy, fucking fantastic haze. She gulps. _Don't think._

At first, she doesn't even notice how slowly she leans in, very carefully, as if she is trying to approach a wild animal without scaring it away. Her head rolls to the side as she stares into Beca's blue pools, trying to detect any sign of her pulling away. But she stands motionless, perhaps in a daze. Perhaps... _expectant?!_ Chloe grows closer, eyelids fluttering shut. And, every so lightly, their lips brush tentatively. Gently. Just a soft touch that might as well be a caress of the wind.

As Chloe gathers the courage to take Beca's bottom lip between hers, the brunette jerks away.

"Woah, Chloe!"

Startled, the senior can only stammer. "W-what?!"

"I'm with Jesse!"

She expected many responses, but not this one. The boy's name sounds alien to her right now. Her blood almost freezes in her veins.

"I—I need to go," Beca blurts, a shudder altering her voice.

"No, please! I'm so sorry, please stay!" Chloe has never begged in her life. But in that moment, she knows she would have been willing to do much worse for the girl to stay. Tears are already welling in her eyes, but she ignores their bitter sting. "We can talk, we can just hang out... Even pretend nothing happened! Whatever you want! Please just—"

But Beca is shaking her head, impervious to the redhead's heartbreaking plea. "I... can't."

Without waiting for any response, the girl is already out the door, leaving Chloe alone on her bed, surrounded by nothing but the deafening sound of her heart shattering to pieces.


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Part 5 of the fic! I decided there should be 8 parts in total, so three more left guys! And maybe an Epilogue? It seems to be the new trend. Let me know if you want one! Special thanks to everyone sticking around! Xx**

**[Part 5]**

- _Hiding you pain from plain view does not make it hurt any less, Chloe discovers._

Chloe doesn't know what hurts more. The fact that Beca and her have not exchanged more than a one-syllable word in four full days or the fact that she obstinately refuses to acknowledge what happened between them. She replayed the moment in her head on loop, trying to find where exactly it went wrong. Was it the timing, the mood, the setting? They had shared a moment, it was undeniable. _Or was it? _Chloe had been so mesmerized by Beca that it is only now that a realization hits her; perhaps, she has been misreading the signals. The track mixes, the tickles, the bug tattoos... Perhaps, Beca never wanted _this_.

She suppresses a whimper.

"You like her, don't you?" is what Stacie says to her one afternoon as they hang out in the study hall. She has been staring vacantly at the same page of her Music Theory textbook for at least ten minutes. Open to the chapter _Introduction to Digital Editing: Multitrack Mixing_.

"Is it that obvious?"

"If it makes you feel better, I don't think she sees it. Her scrawny man-candy's abnormally large forehead is blocking her view."

She would laugh, but she doesn't find the strength to. "I take it you don't like him very much?"

"Oh no! Don't get me wrong, he's so delicious I would eat him with a cherry on top."

"Cute," Chloe replies sardonically as she closes her textbook. She gives up on getting any studying done for now.

"Girls are fun though. I've tried it," Stacie muses, twisting a strand of her dark hair around her red-polished finger.

"With the Hunter?" Chloe quips.

The woman appears particularly pleased that the woman knows the pet name she gave to her downtown area. She runs her tongue on her upper lip and purrs, "You remembered?"

"Kinda hard not to..."

She smiles wistfully, remembering how she used to think that opening up could be hard, but so gratifying. Being vulnerable, feeling like someone could break you. Now, she can only think, _What a bunch of crap. _

In the past, she has never failed to update Aubrey on her romantic life even as the girl appeared not to care half the time. She didn't care about the people Chloe hooked up with, but that didn't mean she didn't care about her friend. She used to tell her everything, starting from a crush, to a hook-up, to a first date... Why is now any different? Well, aside from the fact that we are talking about Beca _freaking_ Mitchell.

She wants to ask what it means that she cannot stop thinking about her. She refrains from doing so because she knows Aubrey too well. She can already envision her rolling her eyes and saying,_ "You're in love, you idiot!" _

Looking back, she's never been in love before. Boys were boys, weren't they? A hook-up was what it was, nothing more. Sure, sometimes she got burned. But she had never felt a pain like that; with her chest bursting ablaze, leaving her numb and distraught.

And Jesse Swanson doesn't help. Strutting around like he's the school's big shot. She has dreams in which she loosens up. _Back off, you don't own her golden boy! _But then, her rational side takes over, harshly reminding her that this is real life, not a movie.

Perhaps someone should remind aca-boy too.

* * *

Chloe picks up her phone and scrolls through her contacts before stopping on Tom Stewart. Team quarter-back, tall, handsome. Her man candy has never let her down before. She thumbs over Tom's number, shooting him a quick and concise text message.

For some reason, she would like Beca to know that they are fucking. She would get off on watching her mortified face, her wide eyes and tightly knitted eyebrows. But Tom remains his dirty secret for now. Not because she is disgusted by herself, or because Aubrey would strongly disapprove—although both are actually accurate—but because deep down she is scared; terrified to the point that overindulging in these thoughts gives her trouble breathing.

It's not the thought that Beca won't care. It's the thought that she won't care _enough_.

She meets Tom at the usual spot, on the third floor's shower room. He's got that cocky tone as he says, "I knew I'd hear from you."

After quickly removing his clothes, revealing an athletic and dreamy body, he hops in the stall, waiting for Chloe to join in. She'd met him in Algebra class. He was struggling and she had helped him maintain a good enough average to remain on the football team. He is the teenage dream by its very definition, Chloe thinks. Perhaps that could be enough?

When naked, she finally steps in the stall, he turns on the shower, releasing a stream of nearly-sizzling water over their heads. Grinning down at her, he presses her body against the cold tile.

She's not doing anything wrong; she's doing precisely what is expected of her, what she _should_ do.

_So why does it feel like cheating?_

"You're so hot," Tom sighs against her mouth. The boy's kisses are fierce and hurried. They barely graze her lips before moving down as his hands swiftly cup her breasts, pressing them a little too hard. Chloe's responds to her lover's drive are mild to say the least, but in-between clumsy caresses and hazy kisses, she thinks that it will have to do.

* * *

After a week of debating the pros and cons, she finally decides to bring Tom along to hang out with them over dinner. They reserved a large table at an Italian restaurant to celebrate the end of term as a "family" before the infamous final exams swallow their souls and spit them out as a bunch of brainless zombies (so were Fat Amy's words). But dinner is pretty standard. What is the worse that can happen really?

Hand in hand, they arrive late, at fifteen past eight, hoping it will make their arrival even more noticeable. The usual gang is there and apparently, they are not the only new couple to have blossomed. Or is it just her mind playing tricks on her? Lilly is snuggled against Donald, the beat-box Treblemaker, Stacie is willingly allowing Cynthia-Rose to check her out, and Fat Amy is luridly eying Unicycle even though that might just be Fat Amy being Fat Amy. Only Benji seems to be flying solo. As for Aubrey, she is nowhere to be found, much to Chloe's disarray.

Still, she summons her brightest of smiles and declares proudly, "Everybody, this is Tom."

Upon seeing him, Beca nearly chokes on her drink. "Oh my, the _shower guy_?!"

"Hey there, how you doing?" he greets sweetly. He moves to shake everybody's hand and when he finally gets to the brunette, he does not even flinch. "I believe we've already met." His eyes keenly sweep her up and down in an I-got-you-memorized look.

_"_I just puked a little in my mouth,"Chloe hears the younger girl mutter under her breath.

But apart from this hiccup, her boy-toy is flawless. He nods at all the right times, answers every question and smiles at everyone. Frankly, he feels like her little _thing_, which he is most definitely. He's a device, an instrument meant to achieve some of Chloe's objectives: wipe the smile off Beca's face when she introduces him as her "boyfriend", wane the glimmer in her eye whenever Jesse's hand grazes her arm, suppress the ache in her own chest whenever the two kiss, because she knows that in that fleeting moment, the brunette has forgotten all about Chloe.

She ends up sitting right in front of Jesse and across from Beca, and perhaps this is ill-advised because the dinner soon turns into a showdown where only one of the two facing opponents is aware that they are fighting. Chloe is glad that they went for dinner rather than, let's say, paint ball because she would have definitely painted a wallpaper on the boy's indeed large forehead. But honestly, every time he opens his mouth, a wise-ass comment falls out. It's as if he needs to convince Beca of how great and hilarious he is, and prove to everyone how they are a match made in heaven. He's been talking about how he never expected to become the Treblemaker front man after Bumper's disloyalty, especially since he was only a freshman.

"He was kind of a douche," he states matter-of-factly.

"But boy, did he have talent!" The newest addition to the Treblemakers is quick to defend his role model and inspiration. "Bumper is the reason I'm here today."

"Benji, he's been nothing but rude to you!"

Chloe thinks it's cute that Jesse has sort of taken the role of Benji's mentor. He's got a good heart. Maybe this is why Beca fell for him.

"So, you guys, what is it exactly you do?" asks Tom, genuinely interested. "Now, I appreciate synchronized lady dancing as much as the next guy, but aren't you dudes like, wannabe Backstreet Boys?"

"You know that they had throngs of girls at their feet, right?" Donald comments accurately.

"Good point," he concedes, raising his glass. "So you should totally tell me when's your next petting party!" he winks at Beca.

"Dude, no!" She looks downright outraged by the innuendo, but it's most likely part of the theatrics.

Everyone bursts out laughing, holding their glasses to raise a toast. Flashing Chloe a dopey grin, Tom pulls her closer and plants a hot kiss on her cherry-glossed lips. She suddenly realizes that without Aubrey, she is the only senior in the group. In that moment, she feels very old. And very out of place.

Tom's hand has been resting on her thigh for a while now to the point that it's become sort of uncomfortable. It's warm, moist even, and his elbow is getting in her way each time she checks her phone to see if Aubrey has replied to her desperate text saying _Where r u?! Come aca-save me NOW._

"My favourite movie soundtrack?" Jesse repeats after Benji's question, scratching his head. "That's a no-brainer!"

"No no, choose something of this century," Chloe quickly specifies to challenger him and spice things up.

"What, so I can't pick _The Breakfast Club_?! Damn, that's cruel... Then I'd have to go with _Across the Universe_,or _Up in the Air_."

"Seriously?!" the senior scoffs. "Come on, I'm a girl and even _I_ find this corny! Aren't you a Broadway boy? I'd pictured you as a musicals aficionado."

"Uh, well... I—I liked the one with the two witches. _The Wizard of Oz_...?"

"_The Wizard of Oz_ or _Wicked_?" Chloe asks, gladly taking the opportunity to mess with him.

"There's a difference?"

Beca stiffles a giggle. "Come on Jesse, even I know that!"

"Fine I'm not a Broadway boy!" he admits vehemently. "I'm into _Star Wars, E.T, Jaws, Rocky_,_ Fight Club_... Classics!"

He looks uncomfortable and Beca pats him on the shoulder, which probably makes him feel even worse. Chloe feels guilty about enjoying it so damn much. But she has been nurturing a burning hatred for the boy. Not because he's a douche, a pain in the ass, or a jerk—which he certainly isn't—but because he's trying so damn hard not to be, to the point where it becomes suffocating. As soon as Jesse's eyes landed on Beca, he's wanted her. Chased her. Harassed her. He could not take his time and enjoy one of the best part of a relationship. Granted, Chloe is an idealist and a dreamer and to her, nothing matches the blessed stage of a relationship where you both know that it's bound to happen, but you refrain yourselves. You call yourselves friends but act as lovers. Every glance exchanged feel as hot and satisfying as a passionate kiss. Each single emotion is intensified tenfold because at the end of the day, no matter who you've been with or who they've been with, you both _know_ you belong to each other.

At last, you find yourselves seconds away from the first kiss. All the pent-up frustration and overriding passion set you aflame. And in that instant you've won, although—and this might be the most tragically beautiful thing—you don't seem to care about winning or losing anymore; you almost _want to lose_ so the other one can hold you tighter as you both fall.

But Jesse could not wait. He was so impatient to get to the kissing part that he forgot the most important. He forgot _why_ he wanted her in the first place. Chloe keeps telling herself that he is bound to trip on his own enthusiasm. Then, she looks over at the lovebirds feeding each other pasta and trying to eat it from one end to the other like in _Lady and the Tramp_,and all her goddamn far-fetched theories can go burn in hell for all she cares.

* * *

Aubrey still hasn't replied to her first text. She shoots another, more earnest this time: _I beg of u, Brey. I can't do this w/o u.._

"Who are you texting, babe?" Tom asks, trying to peer above her shoulder.

"I'm trying to get Aubrey to come."

"Aw, but she's such a fun sponge! Besides, I was planning on having you to myself tonight," he grins cheesily. Curiously, tonight she doesn't crave a mindless hook-up. As much as sometimes it helps her forget, other times, it appears to reinforce her desperation. And having sex with Tom leaves her stranded and lusting for something more.

Before gelato is served, she excuses herself to go to the restroom. Fortunately, her mascara is still intact, but she wants to freshen herself up nonetheless. In front of the mirror, she notices the arch that her eyebrows take involuntarily. People must think that she's had a massive bowl of bitch flakes this morning. Tom included. She doesn't fuss too much about him; he can drool over her all he wants but he has the merit of knowing his place. Chloe takes out her phone, pondering on whether she should call Aubrey or not. Knowing the blonde, she might as well be home alone, watching _The Breakfast Club_ for the hundredth time, trying to decipher what exactly the hell was attractive in Allison Reynolds. Before her make-over of course. Because after she is all dolled-up by the school princess, there is no reason why the jock should _not _want her right?

_Hah, no wonder this is Jesse's favourite movie. _

She decides to leave Aubrey alone, thinking that she is perhaps the wisest of the two by avoiding an unnecessary torture. Beca has barely looked her in the eye all evening. After the other night, there has been a definite and irrevocable change in the air that even the most dedicated and convincing acting could not fix. Even if Tom was a very credible prop.

She jumps a little bit when she bumps into Jesse as he comes back from the men restroom. He shoots her a fleeting smile, and Chloe wonders for a second if it was meant as cocky. If she didn't hold back, she would throw at him all the thoughts that have been oppressing her chest.

_You think that by changing her clothes and her make-up, ta-da she's fucking fixed?! She's not a doll! She's not Allison the basket-case from your precious Breakfast Club goddamnit! She's a rare and talented girl, the one you come across once or twice in a lifetime. And you're throwing it all away just because you can! _

Moments later, his smile dissolves as if he gets an epiphany, making Chloe terrified that the boy is secretly a mind-reader. He pulls her to the side with a sombre face. _What exactly does he know?_

After a few nail-biting seconds, he finally confesses, "I noticed, you know. The way you look at me and her."

Chloe's heart stops beating in her chest. She wants to run. Or die.

He goes on, "It's not this stupid Trebles rule still? Because me and Beca, it's serious."

She breathes a sigh of relief at seeing that the boy is still too blind and infatuated to actually pay attention to the world outside his bubble. _Also, it's "Beca and I", you oaf. Not even the decency to put her first._ Whenever Beca's name is brought up, an unabashed possessiveness bubbles to the surface. Besides, what does "serious" mean at this point. He sounds like a high schooler with a crush; Chloe would be ready to bet he can hear the wedding bells already. She grimaces.

"No, that rule was kind of... strict."

"So what is it? I have the feeling that Aubrey and you react to me as if I were Bumper, which is _not_ the case. I'm everything but."

Chloe holds her tongue, way too aware of the weight that her answer will carry. Feigning her most laid-back attitude, she shrugs, "Look, I don't have any beef with you okay? As for Aubrey, maybe you should take the matter to her..."

Now, he looks confused. "Wait, what does that mean?"

She doesn't know if she's just saved her best friend from everlasting anguish or sent her to an impending doom, but she figures that there is no going back now. She feels for her purse, knowing that her phone would have vibrated had she received an answer. "Like I said. Ask her."

They get back to the group, taking their place next to their respective sweetheart. Encircling Beca with his large arm, he lays a soft kiss on her temple.

Tom mimics more or less his gesture, leaning in. "Hey babe, everything alright?"

"I'm fine." Her favourite lie is about to become a running gag, she thinks as she addresses him a tense smile.

And then, coming as the blessing she was about to give up on, her phone sends two brief vibrations through her purse. She holds it up, breathing a sigh of relief.

_You have (1) new message(s)._


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for the wait, finals are on their way! This part has a dash of angst but I promise it gets better! Thank you for reading and don't forget to comment/review! Every comment is greatly appreciated :D**

_**[Part 6]**_

_ - When you reach the end of your rope, what is there left to do but sing your lungs out? That's right, nothing._

Aubrey's text read: _One. Single. Hour. _

Damn, she'll take it! She'd take a minute if she had to because right now, she sees the silver lining. Tom is confident about taking her home tonight, but with her best friend there, she might have an excuse to bail. Besides, how Aubrey thinks that hiding from the object of her affection will ever get her anywhere is beyond her.

They're at the end of the meal; Tom has paid for her and he's getting a little more touchy-feely. The glass of wine he's had is probably the culprit... Benji suggests to end the night with a bang, a way to burry the hatchet once and for all and come together as one strong and united kickass Barden a cappella crew. He even comes up with the portmanteau "Trebellas", but Jesse shakes his head patiently, advising him to drop it because of his "weird" coming back.

So they agree on karaoke, judging it as common ground for both parties—because a strip club suggestion probably would not have been democratically approved. The open mic thing is a daunting concept at first with all the tables facing the stage, but she deems that after a few drinks, her nerves will surely have steadied.

Aubrey arrives a little after 9 o'clock. Her golden locks are tangled and plastered on her wet face, visibly freshly showered. She scurries to the group and curtly waves at everyone, taking a seat next to Chloe at her table.

"Hey Aubrey! Didn't expect to see you, Chloe said you had work!" Jesse exclaims cheerfully.

"I couldn't miss out on all the fun!"

"That's the spirit!" He raises his drink to her before taking a long gulp.

Chloe tugs at her saviour's sleeve, speaking directly in her ear. "What took you so long?!"

"Hey I came didn't I?"

"Yeah." Chloe exhales, staring at the bottom of her glass.

The girls are stirred out of their thoughts when Jesse starts flailing next to them. _What's got into him now?!_

"Just the way you are?! That's our song, Bec!" Jesse nearly shouts, yanking his petite girlfriend's hand, pulling her on-stage and pushing a microphone in her hand.

This song. The first few notes are enough for Chloe's heart to sink. She remembers vividly an empty pool, a confident Beca offering her the lead, a pristine a cappella intro and a mind-blowing mash-up with the song _Just a Dream. _Fuck, this is theirsong! It's always been _theirs_; and seeing Beca perform it with Jesse while staring into his eyes is just too fucking much.

_Oh her eyes, her eyes _

_Make the stars look like they're not shining_

_Her hair, her hair falls perfectly without her trying_

_She's so beautiful, and I tell her every day_

He's practically undressing her with his gaze, his face only inches from hers. It's sickeningly corny and disturbingly intimate to watch.

Suddenly, she is taken aback by a bunch of unexpected lyrics invading her mind.

_I was thinking 'bout her, thinking by me, thinking by us, what we gonna be. _

_Open my eyes, it was only just a dream. It was only just a dream._

Chloe brushes a hand over her mouth, paralyzed and completely helpless. Wordlessly, Aubrey slides a hand under the table to grab Chloe's free one.

* * *

When the star couple rejoins the audience, everybody praises their voices and chemistry, and while Jesse is well over the moon, Beca receives the compliments with poise and modesty.

"We make one hell of a pair, don't you think Bec?!"

"Oh yeah! Stevie Nicks and Lindsey Buckingham have got nothing on us!" She crosses her arms, pleased with her repartee.

That's Beca Mitchell for you. A little stingy with her love and affection. If Jesse was hurt, it does not show. He's learnt to roll with it, suck it up and be a man; always tolerate the twinges and carry on. Chloe briefly wonders if he's ever going to tire of this relationship, call it quits and show himself off.

The small brunette shoots a glance at Chloe and Aubrey, both sullen at their table. "How about the two team captains perform a duet?" Beca suggests out of the blue, looking thoroughly entertained by the idea.

Beca's boyfriend and arch-enemy uniting their voice in a common effort? Yeah, she could see the appeal. Only, the girl was clearly oblivious to her nemesis' kryptonite.

"Ms. Posen, would you do me the honour?" Jesse extends a hand for the blonde to seize. His smile is dazzling; a very attractive aura of bliss emanates from him.

The song is selected at random but Chloe is starting to believe that the universe is in on a joke when the intro to _Don't You Want Me _by The Human League starts playing.

If Aubrey is aching while singing words that hit too close to home, she displays flawless self-control. Her vocal performance is up to par, complementing Jesse's boyband-ish pitch. When the chorus hits, she dances around him, putting her heart and soul into the lyrics. It's amazing to have him sing the lyrics as if he meant them as well; Jesse has talent, it's undeniable.

When Aubrey flops back on her chair, the redhead loops her arm around her friend's waist and winks at her, "Nicely done, m'aam!"

"You can talk, Captain Obvious!" she snaps grumpily.

She wishes she had the nerve to push up from her seat, snatch the petite girl's hand and guide her on-stage in the limelight. She doesn't dare doing so because it feels out of place; the act of bravado that comes off as absurdly childish and clingy.

Her thoughts are disrupted by Tom's fingers creeping in her back, sending shivers down her spine—but instead of quickening her bloodstream, it chills her to the very bone.

"You haven't sung anything yet, gorgeous," he points out, laying a kiss upon her cheek.

"Yeah Chlo, don't be a bore and bring yo' ass up here!" Fat Amy is stumbling down the stage—rather wasted—as she shoves the microphone in the redhead's hand. "Work your ginger magic!"

Chloe consents to Fat Amy's request, partly because she is tipsy again, although not as much as at the pool party, but also because she knows exactly which song to pick. Going to the karaoke console, she sets up her track and takes the floor center stage.

_Lying in my bed I hear the clock tick and think of you_

_Caught up in circles, confusion is nothing new_

At first, she feels a little light-headed, not so much because of the alcohol than because of the stress. However, she gains confidence as the lyrics roll on screen and as she gets more into the song. Her eyes cross Beca's. The girl is staring right on through.

_You say go slow, I fall behind_

_The drum beats out of time_

_If you're lost, you can look and you will find me_

_Time after time_

_If you fall, I will catch you I'll be waiting_

_Time after time_

Her voice is perhaps not at its best considering that she had her nodes surgery over spring break, but she is still satisfied with the way she belts out the higher notes, finishing the song with a flourish.

Under everyone's applause, she gets back to the seat next to her best friend without casting a glance at Beca. Donald, Unicycle and Benji replace her, choosing the song _Party Rock_ by LMFAO. Her phone vibrates once more. She turns to Aubrey who is far too enthralled by her conversation with Jesse (!) to text her, let alone notice her.

No, the message is actually from Beca. It reads: _You were aca-awesome._

She fails to make eye contact with the message's sender, for the brunette's attention is still riveted on her phone.

Chloe's mobile vibrates once more. _I need fresh air. Coming?_

* * *

It's the first time they really speak since the almost-kiss in Chloe's room. Come to think of it, maybe Beca thought that it had been a spur-of-the-moment kind of thing. After all, Chloe's breaching of the girl's privacy had occurred twice before: when she had barged in on her naked in the shower, and at the aca-initiation night that celebrated the selection of both bands' newcomers. When she had been tipsy a little too early in the evening and had leaned in a little too close, professing that they would become "really fast friends".

And then, she had gone off to dance with Tom, allowing Jesse to make his move.

Was this her original mistake? Had she screwed up everything that night?!

They're standing near the door, enjoying the cool night's breeze. The youngest girl shoves her hands in her pockets, her eyes cast to the ground. Waiting for them to peer back up is a torture for Chloe; they're the only thing that makes her happy nowadays.

"That Bruno Mars song is not really our song, you know. As far as I'm concerned, having a couple's song is tacky as hell... But I've kind of associated _Just the Way You Are _with you guys, ever since we remixed it at Barden."

At first, Chloe doesn't understand why Beca is explaining all of this to her. It's the very soft blush that creeps on her cheeks that ticks her off; she feels guilty, knowing that it upset Chloe. And she's trying to make things right.

It's Chloe's turn to flush. "It's gonna sound silly but when the song was playing, I had _Just a Dream_ in my head." She looks away and bites her lip, both embarrassed and frustrated to be exposing herself so easily. So has always been her way after all.

Beca's laugh startles her, tugging a little at her heartstrings. Was the idea so preposterous?!

"No, I'm not making fun of—I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing. But... so did I! When Jesse started singing the second verse, I kid you not, I was this close to exhibiting my awesome Nelly swag!"

She starts rolling her lips and swaying her arms around in an adorable and absolutely non-threatening gangster attitude. It brings them back to the _No Diggity_ cover that had earned them a disqualification at the Riff-Off. But that song had been the most fun they'd had performing in quite some time; she was still amazed at how elegantly the girl had rapped the whole thing.

Chloe cannot suppress a giggle. This girl will forever be her favourite goofball, making her laugh when she thinks she forgot how to. Right now, she's staring at her inviting lips, wishing she could kiss them again. Fully this time.

"Woah, poor Jesse!" she sighs, "He's so clueless half the time."

_He really is. With his dopey grin, his nerdy movies and four recurring outfits. His inability to fathom how he's the luckiest boy on campus... _Somehow, he's ruined the perfect mood again.

"How is he?" Chloe throws dejectedly, still kind of hurt about the Bruno Mars duet.

"He's clingy. But it's sort of adorable."

"For a puppy, maybe."

"I... guess."

"Tom is not clingy," Chloe asserts instantly. "He lets me do pretty much whatever I want."

Beca studies her for a little while, her eyebrows only beginning to frown.

And in that moment, she realizes how badly she wants Beca to tell her this is wrong; that she shouldn't have casual sex, let alone with a sleazy douche who only cares about fucking hot chicks. Yelling would be ok at this point. Yeah, yelling would be good. Quite frankly, she'd settle for anything. Any reaction showing that Beca cares, even remotely. She fucking hates that she's become so damn easy to please.

The brunette finally nods, looking down at her running shoes. "That's good."

_Fuck._

She yearns to ask the question that burns the tip of her tongue, but is scared to death to actually _get burned_ by the answer. She would usually need to gather her Dutch courage for that, but time is wasting and she'll have to do without liquor.

"Do you love him?"

There is a foreignness to the freshman's demeanour. The way she speaks, the hitch in her breath as she chuckles, how she positions herself against the wall. But most of all, it's the way she looks at her. As if she had become a mere acquaintance. Somebody you knew in passing; somebody who would fade from your memory years from now.

Under Beca's gaze, she comes undone.

The girl appears surprised by the question nonetheless. "Y—yeah..." Beca replies as though she is still internally debating the subject. "I think so."

Seeing the colours drain from Chloe's face, she quickly adds, "You can't be mad at me."

_I can't. _

The rest of the evening is a blur. She vaguely remembers bidding the gang goodnight, getting back to her dorm and closing the door behind her. It is then, as if she can no longer hold the chaos in her body, that she bursts into tears. Loud and ugly tears, and heart-wrenching cries. Later, Aubrey comes back to the dorm with a pile of DVDs in her arms. They are soon abandoned on her work desk when she stumbles upon her friend, curled up on her own and shivering against the cold bathroom tiles.

No word bears healing powers great enough at this point so she holds her tight instead, pressing soft kisses to the redhead's temple. "Shh, it's gonna be okay," she whispers several times as a mantra, praying to god she speaks the truth, and that these two will indeed find a way to fix this.

Whatever the hell _this _is.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: The penultimate installment of this series! Expect the end hopefully before Christmas! Thank you all for tuning in and for giving me feedback; you are all aca-awesome! Don't forget to comment/review because that makes my heart happy :) Cheers!**

**Also, I was wondering if I should write an epilogue? They're popular these days and what can I say, I'm mainstream. So let me know!**

**[Part 7]**

- _In which Chloe dreams of saying, "Remix me like one of your French girls". (No don't trust this summary; I'm being aca-absurd)_

The very next morning, she switches off the alarm on her phone and shoves her pillow on her ears, expressing no remorse whatsoever to be skipping class. Aubrey has already left, dropping a note on her nightstand: _Text me when you wake up. Don't do anything rash. _

_As if. _Chloe hardly even find the strength to get up. She would definitely not go and egg Jesse's dorm or anything.

Judging by her best friend's tidy bed, her neatly-arranged desk and folded clothes, she's in a good mood. The pile of borrowed DVDs stands tall and proud, almost as majestic as their hard-earned Finals trophy.

No doubt these are a part of Jesse's infamous collection; his all-time classics of the 70s and before. So he's lent her some stuff that is pretty precious to him and whether this is the start of a great friendship or the first signs of a budding romantic liaison, she's happy for her friend to have found the courage to act instead of sit idly...

Around 10 o'clock, there is knocking at the door. Chloe jolts out of bed; she's a mess. Her make-up is smudged, her hair will take ages to untangle and she looks like she's been sleep-deprived for a century or two.

"Chloe? Are you there? It's me, Beca."

"Shit!" she mutters under her breath. "Uh, hang on a sec!" Running to the bathroom, she quickly splashes water on her face, rubs toothpaste on her teeth and replaces the rebellious hair hovering above her head.

She opens the door, choosing not to let in an annoyed-looking Beca. "You were not in Algebra this morning," she scowls.

"Yeah, I don't feel so good. I might be starting a cold..."

"Bullshit! What's up?"

Chloe's answer is wry. "Nothing."

She wonders if Beca notices the dryness in her reply but then again, how could she _not_ fucking notice it.

"Jesse warned me you'd be edgy..."

"Oh, so the great Jesse can predict the future now? Has he figured out where he's taking you on holiday yet?" she spits belligerently, because although she usually has pretty good self-control, sometimes she just can't fucking help it.

Beca, having anticipated the conversation to turn sour, immediately gets defensive. "Don't do that." She hesitates before saying, "He... he told me he loved me last night. The three words, I mean. It's kind of huge, right?"

And for one of the rare times, Chloe's smile is a wistful one. Upbeat, beaming, joyful Chloe is gloomy. She wonders if it unnerves Beca at all.

"You're not happy for me are you?" she observes.

"Depends. Are you happy for you?"

The ten seconds Beca takes to reply is an answer in itself. She says nonetheless, "Happy is kind of hard to define. What about you, are _you_ happy?"

This back and forth question-flinging battle is ludicrous and an uncomfortable and stale silence hangs in the air. Beca is putting up a front; there is no denying it. The way she chews on the inside of her cheek, her avoiding eyes, and juddering hands... Chloe scratches her head, "I'm sad for you. Because you're too much of a coward to admit that you could not say you loved him back."

Impatient to put an end to the conversation, she closes the door in Beca's face and leans her head on the soft wooden surface, eyes squeezed shut. Truth be told, she doesn't how long she can do that anymore. She's wondering when she's going to blow up.

Or it it's even going to matter then.

* * *

The Barden auditorium is quite large, fit to contain the entirety of the seniors along with their parents and friends and some. The green chairs, the small balcony above and the discreet black columns all have a potential to give a very solemn and official feel to their ceremony. Chloe has been spending the better part of an hour already, planning the stage background and trying to find the best matching colour for the banner that reads: "Congratulations class of 2012". So far, she's pretty much decided on a golden yellow.

There are worst ways to spend a school night evening, she convinces herself. Plus, this had been Aubrey's idea at first. Since she had been chosen as Valedictorian, she thought that Chloe could be a part of the graduation in her own way. She had always had taste in stylish decorations. Plus, volunteering to prepare the auditorium was going to earn her some extra credits, which could never hurt.

So there she is, sitting cross-legged on the floor, gluing some silver and golden ribbons together when the auditorium's door opening resonates in the large room. The familiar brunette climbs down the steps to reach the stage, a bashful look on her face. Chloe can't really hold it against her given their last conversation.

"Hi... I got your text."

"Yes!" Chloe stands up, letting her arts and craft fall to the wooden floor in her eagerness. "Shit. Um, yeah well, I wanted to apologize for this morning. I was out of line. What you feel for Jesse is your business and I have no right meddling with your life, even though I think he's pressuring you, and—"

"But you've been doing the exact same thing, Chlo!"

She bites her tongue, almost able to taste the twinge of remorse on its tip. "I know... I'm sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was to make you feel that way. I just want us to be—" She pauses because it's far too easy to commit a blunder, screw everything up. She groans at her incapacity to string a proper sentence in the younger girl's presence.

She brings her hands to her face in bashfulness and giggles. "Happy! I want us to be happy."

After a few seconds, Beca gives in and cracks a smile because let's be real, it's pretty hard to resist the Beale charm. She climbs the few steps that lead her on the stage and walks the steps that separate her from Chloe.

"Apology accepted!"

Caught up in the moment, the redhead doesn't think when she pulls the girl in a tight embrace, burying her face in her hazelnut hair. Those are not butterflies fluttering in her stomach but freaking pterodactyls causing absolute chaos! She heaves a sigh of contentment, thinking about how _right_ this feels.

When they part, both girls' faces bear a dark crimson shade. Beca clears her throat. "So uh, what are you doing here anyway? Did you rehearse an apology number for me or something?"

"You wish! I volunteered to prepare the place for the graduation ceremony. It's only in a week from now!"

"Oh crap, you're right! Damn... where did the year go?" she muses out loud.

"Aaand I've been turning the internet upside down to find ceremonious music for the celebration! But the stuff I found on Youtube sucks," and she puts emphasis on the last word.

Beca's lips turn into a lopsided grin. "I could cook something up."

"Really?! You'd do that?"

"Sure. That's my area of expertise after all, isn't it?" Her eyes land on all of Chloe's arts and crafts supplies sprawled at her feet: her half-glued ribbons, thin paper flowers and cardboard stars. "Um, do you need help with all these decorations?"

"I'd love that."

* * *

They find that in an activity as simple as hoistering up a banner, they can get this feeling of being back to their former selves. Being entrusted with a misson gives Chloe something concrete to do instead of kicking around mad theories, inappropriate fantasies and silly over-the-top dreams of them running away in the sunset. Beca is her nice self again, the self that doesn't put up impenetrable walls and hide behind snarky comments. She loves how the girl allows herself to be naked around her—not literally of course, although she would not completely be opposed to that idea. But being authorized to peer into Beca's soul and catch a glimpse of the _real_ her, it makes her feel special and chosen; perhaps more than Jesse.

Beca is leaning on a black column, looking up as she's trying to place a decorative cardboard cut-out star on it. "Like this?"

"Higher."

Beca stands on the tip of her toes, which does not add that much more due to her height. "Like... this?"

Chloe shakes her head, reaching up and grabbing the gold star to raise it to the desired spot, even with Beca's protestations. As the brunette attempts to snatch the ornament back from Chloe, the redhead seizes her hand to hinder her movements.

"I know, I can do it," Beca grumbles.

But the older girl ignores her comment, far too absorbed by the contact of Beca's hand in hers, refusing to let go just yet. It's a bold move, a classic that never goes out of fashion. She's used it before too, like when they used to rehearse for Regionals and she helped Beca through the choregraphy even though she know perfectly well that she could pull her own weight. It was one of the rare instances where she could freely touch her with a purpose so she did not let them pass her by.

Beca has stopped trying to wriggle free from her friend's hold. She's just staring at her with eyes saying _Will you let me go yet? _But it's impossible that Beca doesn't feel a thing at the contact; not with her dilated pupils and her dumbstruck expression. When Chloe releases her grip on the slim wrist, Beca clears her throat and pushes a brown lock behind her ear. They're still pierced, she notices with pleasure. Jesse still hasn't won this battle.

"Soooo," Beca starts off awkwardly as she gathers more stars from the pile, "how's shower guy?"

"Tom is fine. I mean, he's _fine_. He's very physical."

"Ew, gross." Beca screws up her face in disgust, but looks at Chloe mischievously nonetheless.

"Not for that reason! I mean, he's not much of an arts lover. All that a cappella stuff, not a fan... For instance, he'd never break out in a song or, I don't know, watch _Grease_ or _Chicago_ with me."

"Not a soulmate then?"

Chloe doesn't have to think long and hard to come up with her description. "My soulmate will be musically keen of course. Have a big heart, own the complete DVD collection of Glee, even though the later seasons sucked, maybe get a matching tattoo, and... just make me feel okay to be me."

"Wow," Beca breathes in amazement, "That was... exhaustive! Well, good luck with that. I hope Santa took notes!"

Chloe might very well have been dreaming, but she is almost sure she caught Beca sneaking a peek at the inked grasshopper on her arm.

* * *

A good while later, their work has reached its end. The auditorium is gorgeous with the magnificent golden banners and floating stars all around. It might feel a little too much with all the lively colours and layers of ribbons, but it's kind of Chloe's signature; it feels and looks like _her_. The last step is to adjust the stage background, a large piece of cardboard cut and painted to represent the school campus. While this might be a little tacky, it was not Chloe's idea but rather a part of the college tradition. For this, they need to go behind the curtain.

"This thing is heavier than it looks!" Beca groans as they drag it to the back by its two extremities.

"You mean like you?"

"Uh-oh Ms. Beale, you'll regret this!"

She drops her end of the cut-out background, causing Chloe to stagger backwards and in a move of the elbow, she hits the lights switch plunging them both in darkness.

"Oh my god!" she shrieks.

"Put it back on!" Beca urges.

"I—can't! It's jammed!" Chloe is trying in vain to push the handle back up in the obscurity.

"Hang on, I'm coming! Where are you?"

She hears the girl's feet shuffle, then a curse muttered between ground teeth because she probably tripped over the cardboard background. Soon enough, firm hands press on her back.

"Ok I'm here, let's just push it together. On three?"

"On three or after three?" Chloe jokes, poking fun at the Bellas' prior failure to do their signature move.

"Ha ha, very funny! Let's just do this!"

They grunt as they put all their strength into the handle, finally restoring the light to the auditorium. The background is quickly installed to complete their masterpiece and they exchange a very well-deserved high five.

"It's a quarter to nine. Might not be too late to grab a pizza or something," Beca offers.

As they head out, Chloe holding all her art stuff under her arms, Beca wrestles with the door handle. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."

Chloe's smile rapidly dissolves. "Is it...?"

"Locked? Yeah, apparently! You don't happen to have a spare sleeping bag do you?" she ironizes.

"Oh shoot! The janitor locks up at nine, I forgot! With the lights out, he probably thought that we had left already..."

"That's just aca-amazing."

"Hmm... Oh, hang on!" Chloe runs down the lane and back on stage, disappearing behind the cardboard background, even tackier from afar.

"C'mere!" Chloe shouts, beckoning the girl to join her. Lucky she's had the occasion to explore the backstage when she'd first auditioned for the Bellas. She remembers how one of the back walls has a high window big enough for her to crouch through. She has not clue as to where it leads but right now, beggers can't be choosers.

"You're not serious."

They're in front of said window. It's exactly where she remembered it. In all its I-have-not-been-opened-in-ages glory.

"Come on, give me a boost."

Grumbling, Beca goes to stand next to the window, intertwining her fingers and getting ready for Chloe to step on them.

As the redhead climbs up, she stabilizes herself by pressing her hand right on Beca's head, causing her to mutter a string of colourful complaints that Chloe gladly fails to hear.

"Is it open at least?!"

"Yeah, it seems to lead to the front lawn."

"I don't care where it leads! Just go!"

"Ok ok, Miss Bossy-pants!" Chloe pushes herself up and through the small opening, clutching the window's side frames firmly. Her feet find solid ground on a windowsill that's about 20 inches long. "Shit, it's at least a six feet drop!"

"Jump!"

"What about you?" Chloe asks, reluctant to abandon her friend in such a delicate situation.

"I'll find something!"

Beca is frantically scanning the premises before spotting a table. She pulls it right under the window and hops on top of it. Chloe offers her arms for Beca to grip and climb through the opening. "Oh this is just getting better and better..."

But although Chloe's feet were resting on a wide windowsill, the weight of Beca unbalances her. She abruptly falls back, bringing the brunette down with her.

The impact of her back hitting the ground sends a throbbing pain through her spine. But once her breathing drops to a normal rate again, the ache gradually subsides. In an intermingling of limbs, Chloe doesn't know which arms are hers and which are Beca's. The younger girl is also staggered by the impact by the way she does not roll off Chloe but when her mind clears, she examines the girl who's lying underneath her.

"Chlo, are you okay?!" she hears her say.

She is okay. Even though this situation is slightly embarrassing and utterly ridiculous. It's the kind you remember when you're in your rocking chair at the nursing home and it still has your sides splitting. And so, her response is exactly that; the older girl bursts out laughing, her chest heaving ecstatically. "Yep, I'm definitely too old for this!"

Beca instantly joins her friend, her head falling to Chloe's chest, unable to resist her friend's contagious hilarity. And they remain pressed against each other in the cold grass, their clear and pure laughter filling the night air.

* * *

The very next day, Chloe receives something that has been slid at the bottom of her door. It's a CD case. A plain black CD case with a homemade label simply titled _Graduation._

When she opens the case however, she is suprised to find two CDs crammed in the case. One has indeed been labelled as the graduation mix Beca had promised her yesterday. She's probably been working on this all night and Chloe doesn't even need to hear it to know it's brilliant.

The second CD is the one that intrigues her. The words "Remix C"are written in a black marker. A piece of paper has been slid between the two CDs.

It reads, "A graduation gift".

Chloe pops the CD in her computer and her fingers shake so bad that she needs a few tries before successfully placing the disc on the tray.

The opening track is the infamous _Titanium_. Chloe's breath hitches at the hilt of the song—because it's her lady jam—but also because of how the young DJ added other Guetta songs to the mix, creating an explosion of deep and rich sounds—literally eargasms.

_I'm bulletproof, nothing to lose. But when love takes over,_

_I won't run, I won't fly, I will never make it by,_

_Without you. I am titanium. You shoot me down, but I won't fall_

_I am titanium. You shoot me down, but I won't fall_

_Without you. _

She has tailored the chord progressions, strung pieces of lyrics together to offer a whole new song; and a whole new meaning. Chloe closes her eyes and suddenly, she is feeling things tenfold. She would give anything, _anything_, in return of the certainty that these words are Beca's. That the lyrics actually _mean _something. That in fact, they mean everything.

As the track ends, she plugs her earbuds in, puts the CD on replay and allows herself to get completely submerged by the melody. She's smiling from ear to ear, mouthing the lyrics to the songs she has come to know by heart. Giggling thinking of the lyrics "I won't fall without you" being an allusion to last night's window-jumping misfortune. Right there, she can safely say that she is happy. And although it really _is_ a hard concept to define, she'd say she's happy in the same manner that someone finds their way through a raging storm.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Final part of TSTRF! A HUGE thanks to everyone who stuck around and shout-out to the anon who requested this! Who would have thought that such a simple prompt could get this far? Feel free to comment/review, it's always greatly appreciated! You are all aca-classy and I wish you all a very merry Christmas Xx**

**[Part 8]**

_- Ultimately, this is what graduation is all about; looking back on the memories you made along the way and getting ready to create the next. And most importantly, make them count._

* * *

Graduation is approaching so fast they barely have time to take it all in. The day before the decisive date, Chloe and Aubrey go back to the rehearsal room to grab all their things and clean up the place before the summer holidays.

And boy is that place a mess. Sweatshirts, stray running shoes, a mountain of empty water bottles and a barely decipherable writing board. Those are all mementos of the countless hours they spent in here, rehearsing and working until exhaustion.

They're walking slowly as if they're afraid to ruin the sanctity of the room. It feels eerie to know they're not coming back and that their memories will linger somewhere around those bleachers. Chloe picks up a few water bottles, empty soda cans and chocolate bars stashed under a chair. _Oh Fat Amy..._ she sighs.

Aubrey is standing hands on her hips in front of the white board, staring contemplatively at her extensive scribbled schedules and red-marked comments. As Chloe nears her best friend, she says, "We made it Brey… This is it." It comes across as more depressing than she intended. Like a fatality.

"It's so cliché to say this but it feels like yesterday…" is all her friend replies.

"…that we met at the activities fair, landed right in front of the Bellas' recruiting kiosk and signed up together? Yeah. Who knew it would have ever led us here…"

Aubrey picks up her notepad, the one on which she wrote detailed accounts of the meetings, song and choreography brainstorms, ruthless comments about former Bellas' performances. "It's like a journal," she says as she thumbs at the pages. "Remember Patty Johnson?"

"The one with the webbed toes?"

"The one with the webbed toes," Aubrey confirms, smiling. "I wonder what happened to her."

"After that comment you made on her parents probably being inbred and her toes being the reason why she could not dance worth a damn? I wouldn't be surprised if she hasn't approached a choir ever since…"

"I did say that…" Aubrey muses out loud. "I've been horrible."

"You've said some stuff yeah. Like how Beca's attitude sucked and she was a grade-A pain in your ass."

The blonde shakes her head, unwilling to discuss her mixed feelings for the girl and get into a debate on the legitimacy of her past actions in the group. She's talking to Chloe; she cannot win.

Instead, she grabs her Bellas pitch pipe on the desk next to the board. "Guess it's hers now."

Chloe shrugs. "If she wants it."

"Please, she'll take it just to piss me off."

"She's not like that!"

"I know," Aubrey sighs. "I was just—I was just kidding... So what are you going to do about Tom?"

The redhead clicks her tongue. She has to admit that the boy has not crossed her mind lately. Truth be told, since Beca's mix, little else has been preoccupying her. "Ugh, nothing I guess. Besides, he's seeing another girl anyway!"

"You mean, at the same time?! That dirty piece of—"

"No, it's okay! We're not a couple, Aubrey. We never were."

As sincere as her words are, they leave a bitter taste in her mouth. Beca and her were never a couple either but somehow, she felt that they were connected. She had felt it ever since their first duet in the shower. The way their voices had collided so perfectly, eyes refusing to falter as the last note still rang within the ceramic walls. The way her gaze kept gravitating around the other woman's smooth flesh without being told off. There had been signs yes, and maybe with a very big pair of special goggles, some would say that there was definitely _something_ there. That would explain why Chloe loathed herself after each time she let Tom take control. Perhaps he possessed her body for a few minutes, but her heart was out of reach. He could never have it. Truth be told, Chloe isn't really sure her heart is entirely _hers_ anymore.

* * *

When the rational side of the brain takes over, all of the nonsense people fret about and lose sleep over seems childish. Problems deflate and torments subside. Yet, how is it that people almost always appear to revel in despair, embrace the chaos in their minds and crave pain? Chloe has no clue. But she tries to push her thoughts aside for once. After all, graduation is hours away and soon, everything will turn into vague and distant memories of the good laughs and the first heartbreaks of the college experience.

They're in their dorms, getting ready for the ceremony that is scheduled for 7 o'clock tonight. Aubrey has barely eaten anything for supper to guarantee that chunks would not be flying all over the first row. Chloe is fixing her make-up in the bathroom while Aubrey paces in the room, muttering to herself. Worrying over a speech to this point is unhealthy; Aubrey has been repeating it over and over all day. She could say it in her sleep.

"Aubrey?" she calls. The girl doesn't answer. She comes out to find her lying on her bed, her arms stretched out wide. "Are you...okay?"

She sits up, looking up at Chloe with watery eyes. "Are your parents coming?"

"No, they're on vacation in the Bahamas," the redhead answers regretfully. "Yours?"

"Well since I haven't spoken to my dad in forever, my guess would be no. And my mom said she would've come if only she didn't need to take care of him at home."

"Can't she drive here?! I'd be just for the night!"

"She can't drive, even if it's only a few hours away. It's dad who does. It's always dad..." she trails off, drowned in thought.

Chloe wants to say something. As much as she understands parental neglect to a certain point, her own parents having chosen a silly trip over their daughter's graduation, nothing really compares to Aubrey's dad. She's only heard bits and pieces and she can tell he's kind of a jerk. She knows how he was pushing her to succeed at everything and had a very low tolerance level for failure. How he'd cut off communication altogether when she had started college. He was aiming at the great American names like Stanford, Columbia, Princeton... Not something as average and low-class as Barden. But she hadn't been accepted to any of the prestigious institutions. And sure enough, poof, daddy was gone.

_If at first you don't succeed, pack your bags. _

"I wonder what he'd say. If he saw me on that stage, talking on behalf of all the seniors. I wonder if he'd take me in his arms and just—"

Chloe wraps her arms around the blonde's neck, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head. "I've seen you change since Freshman year, Brey. A lot. And I was always so impressed by you, intimidated sometimes. But I admired your courage, your drive. Just know that _I_ am _so _proud of you, Aubrey Posen."

Aubrey flashes a sad smile at her. "You were always my best and only friend, Chlo. That means the world to me..."

Times goes by and it's nearly 6:30. They're putting on their black graduation gowns. Ghastly fashion faux-pas, one would say. But heck, it's tradition and who can criticize such an iconic outfit. These silly one-sized cloths hanging at the wrists, dangling only a few millimeters from the floor.

Chloe is zipping the back of Aubrey's toga, wondering who's the idiot who thought of this in the first place, when her friend breaks the silence.

"I finally did it, you know! I watched all of Jesse's movies! I sacrificed a few hours of sleep too but it was worth it."

She never talks about Jesse so openly, which takes Chloe by surprise. "So... Uh, what's going on exactly between you two?"

"I don't know. At that point, if he doesn't think me a heartless bitch, I'll consider it an accomplishment in itself."

She sighs, "Don't say that."

"What's that music?" Aubrey suddenly changes the subject, noticing the background melody playing on Chloe's laptop.

She blushes. "David Guetta. Beca mixed me a CD."

"Oh." Aubrey smiles as realization dawns on her; she knows exactly what this music means to Chloe, just like what _The Breakfast Club_ means to her. She turns around to look at her friend. "Did she... say anything to you?"

"No," Chloe admits surprisingly flatly. "I think she preferred to let the lyrics speak for her."

* * *

Chloe is sitting in a few rows from the stage, proudly beaming at her best friend. Aubrey is under the limelight, looking a little green and using the podium to stabilize herself. Tapping the microphone to make sure it works, she clears her throat and takes the leap.

"I was asked a couple of weeks ago to write a speech for you today. They didn't tell me exactly what it should be about other than it being "inspirational". Well, the first thing that comes to mind is the future. Your future."

She marks a pause. Quickly surveying the audience, she notices how half of them are struggling against heavy eyelids. She smiles.

"But let's be honest, what is it worth? As we speak, most of you have chosen a path, whether it is science, literature, arts, sports... Some of you chose by passion; others by obligation. Some even don't know yet. And it's okay! You have been taught from kindergarten to college that there is _one_ path that will lead you to success; _one_ way for you to achieve greatness when in fact, there are as many as there are individuals in this room! Everybody has a talent. Gambling, air guitar, remixing music, cuticle care, even mermaid dancing to name a few! Those are things that are a part of you. Don't forget them."

Aubrey's eyes find her best friend, giving her two thumbs up. She continues with confidence. "Yes, the road to get here was hard. Maybe you failed a class, or you lost a relative. You were humiliated, or your friends turned their backs on you. Maybe you fell in love, and you got heartbroken."

She takes a breath, putting her memory card down on the podium and looking the crowd dead in the eye. "But today, as you sit here in this auditorium and you rise to claim your diploma, you prove to the entire world, and to yourself, that you got over it! You pushed through and here you are. Sure, life might have kicked your ass. Got a bruise or two to prove it! But one thing's sure, you can proudly say, "You should see the other guy!""

To this, people in the audience cheer. Aubrey has got the crowd exactly where she wanted; she waits a few seconds before delivering her finale. "Maybe you're not ready to take a step forward tomorrow, next week or even next month. Maybe you're scared to death, and frankly, we probably all are. But as you stand up straight on this stage, with your parents and friends all gathered here, you show that you're at least ready for the future to come hit you in the face." She holds her breath, "And hell, you will show it who's boss!"

Chloe shoots to her feet, clapping and cheering will all her heart. This speech is nothing short of brilliant. It deserves a standing ovation and it is exactly what it gets. Aubrey has rarely looked this proud, with her toothy smile and gleaming eyes. The only other time would have been when they won the ICCA's. And even then, she didn't look as much at peace with life. It's a stunning sight to take in.

Next thing she knows, the Barden Dean is calling the names of those who completed their college education and who are ready to be released in the big open world.

_Chloe Beale._

The name echoes in the microphone. She climbs on-stage, ceremoniously shakes the dean's hand before grabbing her diploma and raising it up in victory under the auditorium's applause. That's when her eye catches Beca, standing back, in the right wing. Maybe it's her imagination playing tricks on her, but it seems like Beca is the one clapping the loudest. With her diploma in hand, Aubrey finds her friend in the group. She's looking in the same direction, perhaps expecting to spot Jesse as well.

The dean's speech is a haze; she's not paying attention. She comes back to her senses just in time as he finally voices, "Congratulations, class of 2012!" and a hundred of graduation caps are thrust in the air in a loud clamour. Against all reason, Chloe jumps off the stage and makes her way to the brunette.

They walk outside the auditorium and into a deserted hall to avoid the commotion. Beca is genuinely beaming at her, her face so close to Chloe's that the petite freshman can probably count the freckles across her nose.

"I believe congratulations are in order, Ms. Beale!"

"Thanks. I—I didn't think you'd come!" Chloe stammers as her cheeks redden.

"I couldn't miss the great Aubrey's speech now could I? But honestly she was amazing..."

The senior nods curtly. "She really was. Beca, I need to know. About the mix..." She doesn't budge or protest so Chloe takes it as an invitation to go on. "Why did you do that?"

The girl frowns. "It's a graduation gift! I wrote it on my note."

She is going to play dead, Chloe realizes. Again.

_No!_ Not this time. She had let so many things slide, but not anymore. Not when time was such a rarity, when the hourglass' sand was trickling from her fingers.

"A Guetta mix, Beca!" she bursts, stomping her feet on the ground as if to prove her point. "A fucking perfect, moving, heart-breaking Guetta mix!"

"I—I thought you'd like it!"

"Don't play games with me! You know how I feel!" Chloe is doing her best to hold her tears, but she' a fissured dam; ready to burst at any moment. "You can't _not_ know..."

The brunette nervously wipes a hand across her face and lets it linger over her mouth. Body language at its purest state. She's at a loss for words.

"You're too scared to admit it or maybe too dense to even realize it but you did this for us!" the older woman croaks, mustering every last nerve in her body to maintain her composure.

"There is no _us_, Chloe," Beca speaks softly, trying to sound patient and reasonable but ultimately coming across as wistful and... _defeated?!_

But it's still a slap to the face.

"Right, of course there isn't!" she hisses. She has no strength or will to fight anymore; she's been drained from it all. There remains only the affliction that washes over her face, leaving her features dull and her eyes dim. She finishes in a murmur, "And whose fault is that..."

Chloe turns on her heels, her hand itching to throw her diploma in the garbage bin along with the hopes and dreams that Beca's mix had revived in her. But instead, she holds on to it, clutching the crumpled roll of paper so hard that her knuckles turn white as snow.

* * *

She keeps telling herself that maybe it was not the right time. Maybe this could have worked had she used the right words. Had she just seized her face and let her irrepressible feelings speak for her. But wallowing in this self-pity is draining and Chloe is simply exhausted. She's cried all the tears she had to give.

She still hasn't gotten rid of Tom. Not officially anyway. This is why they're sitting on the same sofa in the study hall. His arm is roped around her shoulders and she would give anything for him to disappear. The last few days of school before summer are blending into one another; too much is happening at once and Chloe can't deal with everything at once. In a moment of panic, she wishes she were gone already.

Beca, Jesse and Aubrey are sitting at a table not too far, having a lively conversation with Unicycle, the circus-fanatic Treblemaker who's always riding around on his favourite vehicle. Aubrey looks a little tense but overall happy to hang out with them. Chloe would bet anything that Jesse invited her to tag along. She looks across the room at them in time to see that Beca is pulling down the sleeve of her t-shirt, making her bare shoulder visible. The floral tattoo that stretches down her shoulder blade can be seen in all its glory as it seems to captivate the two boys. The redhead huffs; she's seen it before. That and more...

She can hear them from the couch.

"Nice tattoos, Beca!" Uni nods. "What are you getting next?"

"Oh, well there's nothing in the works."

"A music note would suit you."

"More like an entire vinyl on her back! That would totally rock," Jesse jokes.

"Dream on dude!" she punches him on the arm. "I uh, don't know. A flower maybe? Or uh, something cool like a... a..." Her eyes wander to the red mane a few meters away. "A ladybug or something, I don't know," she finishes swiftly.

Chloe freezes instantly and their eyes lock. Whenever the brunette cracks a smile, she accepts it with a greedy heart. Now is no different.

But here it is, the plain, exposed truth.

_Beca cares_. So much more than she lets on. And she just pretty much admitted to it out loud. The CD mix was one thing, given as a piece of her soul—perhaps to thank Chloe from yanking her out of her dark lonely world at the beginning of the year. The matching tattoos was something of a different order; it would mark the successful corrosion of Beca's walls through a warm and solid warm friendship. But it would also immortalize the passage, however fleeting, of each other in their respective worlds. Permanence in the flesh.

And that prospect gives Chloe wonderful giddy shivers.

Beca cares, that much is true. Still, the question that remains is, _Will that be enough?_

Tom laughs next to the redhead senior, having overheard the others' conversation as well. "Maybe I should get one too! You think ladybugs can be manly?"

A little less than half an hour later, she sees out of the corner of her eye Beca and Jesse leave the hall and stand in retreat from the door. They appear to be in the midst of a heated argument. Beca's hands flail around while Jesse's face is hard as stone.

Shortly after, as Beca quickly puts several steps behind her, the redhead spots Aubrey shyly making her way towards Jesse.

She can't help but think, _What is even right from wrong at this point? _

* * *

Chloe is packing her bags early so she won't leave anything valuable behind when she'll be in a hurry tomorrow, her taxi honking across the street. Her suitcase is on her bed, filled at the rims with clothes, beauty products, magazines and music sheet booklets. There's a weird smell of finality in the air; both scary and exciting.

A knock on the door disrupts her thoughts. She recognizes the soft but assertive touch of Beca and when she opens the door, the girl is standing before Chloe, her arms wrapped protectively around her own body. From her smudged mascara, it's a no-brainer to know she has cried. Still, the tears brighten the different steel blues and ashen grays whirling in her irises and Chloe is at a loss for words.

"So I was watching this DVD of _Romeo and Juliet_ with Jesse," she begins in a trembling voice. "You know, that terrible remake with guns and Leonardo Di Caprio. And somehow, I don't know... I just—" She takes a deep breath before going on. "It wasn't supposed to happen like that! Not in the real world anyway!" She lets out a tense laugh, the one that shows discomfort. "You think I didn't notice Aubrey's crush on Jesse?! It was clear as day! And still, I didn't mind! Can you believe that?!"

Chloe remains silent, her mouth slightly open. Every single one of her nerves is so tense that she can feel them ache. And she _loves_ it.

Beca exhales in defeat, burying her head in her neck to unconsciously protect herself . "So I tried to figure out where I'd gone wrong..." her voice trails off.

"I don't get it. You looked so happy with Jesse!"

"Some people are just better at hiding their feelings," she smiles bitterly.

And it was true. Chloe had never been good at that; she was in fact pretty much the worst. Whenever something overwhelmed her, she had the hardest time trying to keep it in check, cage it and exert violence on her own feelings. So when she met Beca, she could not understand how the girl did it. How she could deny herself like that. But then she understood that it was not a question of insensitivity, unawareness or even greediness. No, Beca was one of those people who craved privacy—and so was her prerogative—but it was mostly because of fear. Fear to be discovered, fear to be ridiculed, fear to be pushed away... After all, what better way to make yourself vulnerable than when putting yourself on the line? Chloe had never cared for that before. Until she met the girl with the black earrings.

Beca's feet are shuffling on the spot where she stands; she cannot seem to keep still. "You were right," she says. "I'm a coward. I'm a coward because I finally saw where I'd gone wrong. I saw, and I knew, and I hated myself for it! But I was just too scared to fix my mistakes! It was _so much easier_ to ignore everything, brush it off... Brush _you_ off."

Chloe's eyes start to water, but she blinks forcefully. Now, of all times, is not the time to be weak. She should be brave, just like Beca is by being here and opening herself up to destruction.

_Fire away, fire away._

Through her red face and tired eyes, the younger girl asks, "What's that Shakespeare quote saying in a fancy way that good things take time?"

"They stumble that run fast?"

She chuckles, her mouth producing the shadow of a genuine grin. "Yeah. This."

"So you don't care if— I mean... So you care?"

Beca rolls her eyes, but her trademark mischievous smirk twitches on her lips at the same time. "I don't have to answer that," she says as a rhetorical question.

"No," Chloe giggles, biting her lower lip.

"So I was thinking... Chloe Beale, do you want to go for a coffee sometime?"

It is perfect. She is perfect. She wants to ask about what will happen over the summer, how will it even _work_. She suddenly realizes how lucky she is to be living less than half an hour from Barden while Beca stays in town. But somehow, having the brunette at her doorstep, her heart in hand and hope gracing her face, she decides that technicalities will have to take a rain check.

So without missing a beat, Chloe answers brightly, "That'd be aca-awesome!"

First they giggle at the silliness. Then they laugh. And they hug. Chloe feels the warmth of Beca's stomach pressed to hers and she melts in delight, holding her even closer. When she feels Beca's stiff fingers tugging at her ginger hair with such fervour, she can't help but feel her chest tighten. The girl is scared to death. She can almost hear all the questions reverberating at once in the brunette's head. _Did I make the right decision? Is Jesse going to forgive me eventually? Will my heart get torn to shreds?_

Chloe presses one single kiss to the girl's temple as a way to say _It's okay. Everything is going to be just fine._ By the way Beca's muscles relax around Chloe's torso, she knows that she believes this silent promise.

Then, in a typical Beca-fashion—formerly shutting out people who cared about her—the girl awkwardly excuses herself and leaves in a hurry. But the senior cannot seriously hold it against her. She has a blind trust in Beca, in her courage and her ability to overcome her fears. She just took a big step so it's normal that she needs some time to process everything on her own. Chloe's not upset or frustrated by it because for one thing, she's waited this long after all (!), and for another, Beca promised to send her a text by the end of the day to arrange their first "date kind of thing" (that's how she had called it) that night.

Chloe turns to her dorm. Yes, she is leaving all of this behind. And yes, it hurts a little. But suddenly, the future doesn't seem so bleak. This is what Aubrey's speech has been about. _You are lying if you say you've never been ruffled by life._ But the trick is to stick it out. To hold on until it gets better. And apparently, this is exactly the philosophy Chloe has embraced this year.

She grabs her _Romeo and Juliet_ playbook, smiling as she fondles its cover. This story is such a legend nowadays; it's bizarre for her to imagine that if it holds a special place in her heart, it is specifically because Romeo and Juliet _don't_ end up together. She delicately sets her book in her suitcase, in-between her carefully-folded clothes and her oh-so dear Barden Bellas silky scarf.

Chloe allows herself to get lost the event that just occurred, still rather shaken by it. Funny. There has been no passionate kiss in the rain, no tear-jerking violins nor fireworks blasting in the distance.

No, this was not the infamous Hollywood ending, the absolute catharsis everybody is after.

It was more like a beginning. A simple, naked and ever so glorious _beginning_.


End file.
